You Better Go Now
by Dietrich's Ghost
Summary: Anna Bartkiewicz, a brilliant biomedical engineer, is presenting the results of her highly successful research project at the prestigious Strasbourg Conference. The evening becomes considerably more interesting when she notices her old acquaintance Henrik Hanssen in the audience... Multi-chapter (hopefully) intelligent smut with plot and fluff.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hi All,

Welcome to my attempt at writing fanfiction! This is a story about Henrik Hanssen and one Anna Bartkiewicz, a character that came from somewhere inside my head. The story begins mid-season-14-ish, after Sahira has left but before George Binns has arrived. As I've said in the summary, I'm aiming for intelligent smut with plot and fluff and sexual tension, so it's rated M for later chapters. Oh, and the title comes from a beautiful Billie Holiday song. Have a listen for a better understanding of what I'm going for here!

That's about it, hope you enjoy it, don't forget to leave a review!

* * *

"_Naked. They're all naked. Nakedy-naked. And that middle-aged, pot-bellied, sour-faced Head of the Antwerp Nephrological Research Institute who is looking at me with a mixture of scorn and pity is actually wearing a leopard-print thong_."

Nope, wasn't helping. For crying out loud – 37 years old, one of UK's most promising biomedical engineers, head of a groundbreaking research project into kidney dialysis, generally competent human being, and still Anna Bartkiewicz was scared to death of public speaking. Individually, she could deal with each one of those scientific luminaries, directors of research institutes, corporate sponsors, lobbyists, and even politicians, being able to switch on the superficial charm honed by years of trying to get ahead in a notoriously male-dominated and underfunded field. But together, they blended into one homogenous, silent, frightening whole, threatening her with criticism, disapproval or, worst of all, boredom.

Objectively, Anna had nothing to worry about. She was presenting the results of her exceptionally successful research project on Peritoneal Dialysis machines that would dramatically improve the effectiveness of the procedure and thus the survival rates of kidney disease patients. The new design would be smart, and (that magic word!) cost-effective within a relatively short time span. And the highly prestigious Strasbourg Conference of the European Nephrological Research Foundation assembled in front of her was, by and large, keen to hear what she had to say.

But phobias will be phobias and, discretely wiping her sweaty palms on her smart suit trousers, Anna nervously stepped up to the lectern.

...

Half an hour later, the worst was over – she managed to field the questions from the floor with the right balance of scientific detail and "normal English" (the poor clueless darlings from the European Parliament had to cope somehow!), and even managed to fit in a joke in her response to the obligatory sceptical question from the fat institute director (who didn't even smile, the smug git). The time came for the last question, marking the wonderful point after which she could make a dignified exit and head for the balcony via the catering, for a well-deserved fag and a glass of champagne.

"Dr Bartkiewicz, I would like to congratulate you on what we would all agree is an exceptional achievement. Two questions – what would you consider to be the main research priority for biomedical engineering in the field of peritoneal disorders, and would it be at all possible to have your autograph on the new dialysis machine?"

There was no confusing the tall, lean frame, the deliciously articulate voice, or the amused twinkle in the eye. Professional countenance be damned, a huge smile spread across Anna's face.

"Well, Mr Hanssen, I am very glad you asked me that"…

...

The revelation that Mr Hanssen was also attending the Conference necessitated a brief detour to the ladies' room. Not bothering to explain to herself why a roomful of experts did not deserve a separate make-up check and one consultant surgeon did, Anna positioned herself in front of the bathroom mirror and cast an appraising glance at her reflection. Eyeliner – smudged, naturally; a strand of blond hair has escaped from the chignon – could probably leave it there, looks rather charming; slightly shiny nose – easily corrected. All in all, everything was in order. The really-rather-expensive-but-really-rather-worth-it trouser suit sat perfectly on her quite tall, long-limbed figure (and helpfully concealed the fact that it was about time she stopped skipping visits to the gym, now that the conference was almost out of the way), and the vintage amber pendant livened up the whole ensemble. It was a present from her Polish grandfather who had come over to England during the Second World War – one of the few things that remained of her Polish heritage, together with the exotic surname that no one of English woman born could cope with, some basic colloquial Polish that endeared her to numerous repairmen, and some excellent _pierogi_ recipes.

Anna's face was not classically beautiful – the fashion industry did not lose a top model when she decided to spend her life running lab tests and fiddling with machinery – but it was an appealing and an interesting one, chiefly due to her large, intelligent green eyes that sparkled mischievously when something piqued her interest. All in all, she looked professional and competent but stylish and feminine – in other words, the perfect look for catching up with Henrik Hanssen.

They first met some fifteen years ago, when she had completed her MSc in Biomedical Engineering and was a fresh-faced trainee at the Charing Cross Hospital in London, and Hanssen was already a figure of some renown in the field of kidney disease. Despite the difference in age and in experience, they got along extremely well from the first day, sharing a keen intellect, the same dry, deadpan sense of humour and a certain alienation from their peers. Anna was bright and mature (in no small part thanks to a rather tragic family history) and was consequently bored by many of her age mates, preferring older company. It didn't help her social life that she was frequently impatient and irritable when other students couldn't keep up with her and, as a consequence, they left her to her own devices.

To Anna's observant eye, it was apparent from day one that Henrik Hanssen had the same problem. Aside from his carefully reserved demeanour that didn't invite conversation on topics other than the work at hand, he was too intelligent and quick-witted for his own good, and didn't hesitate to demonstrate the fact – resulting both in astronomical career advances and in Anna often being the witness of many of his colleagues visibly struggling to conceal their irritation. But together, they could be themselves, frequently going out to lunch to the local sushi café to talk not only about their work and their disciplines, but literature, politics, history, without having to limit themselves or tone down their erudition for the benefit of others. For Anna, there was true joy to be found in those moments when a witty remark or a particularly intelligent observation of hers made Hanssen's usually impenetrable expression soften with a smile and his eyes light up with mirth and admiration. Signs of praise and appreciation from this brilliant, reserved, faultlessly professional man were somehow more valuable to Anna than similar encouragement from her other superiors.

Inevitably, there were certain rumours going around concerning their relationship, but for both of them there was a certain line that was not to be crossed. Anna was going through a difficult period – a secret and disastrous affair with her married supervisor was getting more complicated by the day – and Hanssen's immaculate gentlemanly behaviour ruled out any suspicion as to the nature of his intentions.

They stayed in touch after her placement ended and she moved on to better pastures, going where her career took her: first Boston and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, then Switzerland -where she met Mike, and now Strasbourg - where she eventually divorced him and where she had been working on this project for the past 6 years. Throughout this time, she kept running into Hanssen at various conferences, seminars and workshops, whenever their spheres of competence overlapped, and was always very happy to see him. When the discussions became tedious and the scientific egos too oppressive, they could rely on each other for company to escape to the nearest sushi restaurant in whatever city they were in, share a bottle of wine (Henrik's knowledge of and taste in wine was impeccable) and enjoy some sane conversation for a change. Some years ago, the tone of their discussions acquired the faintest hint of flirtation – which Anna had unexpectedly found to her liking – but while they had inched closer to it, the line that was there since the early days of their acquaintance remained uncrossed. This time it has been a while since they had seen each other – some three of four years – and Anna was excited to spend the evening in his company.

...

Downstairs, the proceedings had moved on to the networking stage of the evening. This being Strasbourg, the home of the European Parliament, the "networking" mainly entailed particularly ambitious scientists seeking out the corporations to charmlessly hassle them for funding, getting more obnoxious with every glass of champagne, and the politicians seeking out the relevant scientists who could potentially provide some credibility to whatever items were on their agenda under the title of "Health". Anna did not have the faintest desire to be a part of either stream and so, having enjoyed her cigarette on the balcony and accepted a flute of champagne from a pleasantly good-looking waiter, she sought out a few familiar faces among the scientist bunch and settled into a gentle, undemanding discussion about EU health policy, consisting of the usual platitudes.

As she turned her head towards the window to admire the sight of a cobbled Strasbourg street on a delightfully warm June evening, she noticed Hanssen heading towards her through the crowd. As always, he was wearing an exceptionally well cut suit (Anna couldn't help noticing that the light blue of his shirt looked very good on him), his dark hair had a few specks of silver and his eyes were smiling at her through the metallic frames of his glasses. He was striding confidently towards her, promptly getting rid of those who tried to start a conversation with him with a polite smile that clearly communicated the message "how lovely to see you, I am rather busy, please make yourself scarce".

"Mr Hanssen! What a lovely surprise!"

"Dr Bartkiewicz! What on earth is a brilliantly successful scientist such as yourself doing in a dreary place like this?"

How typical of Hanssen to differentiate himself from almost all of her professional contacts and make the effort to pronounce her surname perfectly. Anna was never sure if he did it out of his passion for accuracy or as a special mark of respect towards her.

"Oh, I'm just here for the canapés and the inflated sense of self-importance."

"I'll have to disappoint you, I'm afraid – it might be rather late for that. I saw some colleagues from St Bartholomew's rushing towards the trays with the speed normally reserved for patients suffering a heart attack."

They stood facing each other for a moment, until a smile broke Hanssen's carefully composed expression.

"My deepest and most sincere congratulations, Anna. This is a well-deserved triumph!"

He leaned down to kiss her lightly on both cheeks, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, his lips barely touching the skin, letting Anna catch a faint smell of his sandalwood-scented aftershave.

"As I'm sure you're aware, the organisers of the Strasbourg Conference are extremely selective in whom they invite to speak. I thought your presentation was excellent."

"Thank you very much Henrik, praise from the Dark Master of British Nephrology is praise indeed! And thank you for asking that question at the end. I was beginning to fear that no one cared about my opinion on research priorities!"

"Well, I did have an unpleasant suspicion that no one was going to ask you. It is a distressing trait of most of the gentlemen assembled here - the greater the career successes, the greater the egos. Rare is the successful scientist who could tolerate being told what they ought to be doing, not to mention being advised by…"

"…a young female engineer?"

"Quite. Shameful but true. In any case, I am most glad to hear that we agree on the fact that…"

Hanssen and Anna launched into a detailed discussion on scientific priorities and government policies ("and never the twain shall meet", Hanssen remarked wryly), falling back into their familiar pattern of conversation. Anna was particularly keen to know what was going on back in Britain – there was only so much one could glean from the newspapers – and whether things really were as bad as they seemed. She was about to ask this question when a thought occurred to her.

"Henrik?"

"Yes?"

"I believe that this is meant to be the networking part of the evening."

Hanssen looked taken aback for a moment, evidently rushing to the assumption that Anna wished to move on to talk to someone else, until he saw where she was going with this.

"And we, Dr Bartkiewicz, seem to be networking exclusively with each other. Besides," he leaned in conspiratorially, "I'm sorry to say that Professor Akkerman appears to have had one glass of champagne too many."

Anna turned around to catch the surly director of the Antwerp Nephrological Research Institute whom she had previously attempted to picture in a leopard-print thong clearly returning the favour as he stared unashamedly at her arse.

"I think you may be right there. In other news, Monsieur Dupont, whom you have rightly exposed as a pompous cretin at the last Copenhagen Symposium, is heading in our direction" said Anna, nodding towards a short, broad-shouldered man marching towards them across the room with a murderous expression on his face.

Hanssen's eyebrows shot up in mock embarrassment. "Are you suggesting we go and network somewhere else?"

"I certainly am. I know a nice Japanese restaurant not far from here with a view of the Cathedral."

"Anna, it is as if you read my mind." A smile tugged at the corners of Hanssen's mouth as he extended his arm, inviting Anna to proceed in front of him.


	2. Chapter 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hi everyone, thank you so, so much to the people who left me such lovely reviews! Hope you like the next chapter as much as the first one. To my surprise, this story appears to have much more emotional stuff compared to the straightforward smut I had initially planned (isn't it always the case) but I solemnly swear that smut there shall be - I just seem to be rather enjoying building up the relationship between the characters at the moment!

Eagle-eyed readers will notice that I made two small changes to the first chapter - I have managed to misspell my character's last name (smooth), so I've corrected that, and I've changed the timing from October to June because it would have otherwise buggered up the chronology for what I want to do later.

That's about it, hope you enjoy the next installment, don't forget to leave a review!

* * *

They set off into the warm Strasbourg evening, walking from the conference centre along the river, with Hanssen telling Anna about the morning's workshop on surgical nephrology that he had been invited to Strasbourg to lead and Anna, as ever, frequently having to ask him to slow down – while her legs were of a respectable length, they were no competition for his, and the combination of cobbles and smart high heels didn't exactly help. They turned into Rue du Bains aux Roses, crossed the river and headed towards the Cathedral square, where Anna's favourite Japanese restaurant nestled in a corner. It was one of the very few establishments in the area offering something different to the traditional Alsatian fare of meat, more meat and sauerkraut. And although that corresponded rather closely Anna's dad's Polish cooking (the enthusiasm for which was not shared by her English stepmother), there could definitely be too much of a good thing as far as pork knuckles were concerned.

The restaurant was a somewhat bizarre but pleasant fusion of excellent Japanese cooking and a traditionally French ambience, complete with candles on the tables and cosily arranged tables. Anna let herself enjoy Hanssen's gentlemanly manners, all the more appealing for being entirely uncontrived – he didn't open the door for her, helped to take off her light trench coat, or pull out the chair for her because he wanted to endear himself to her, or establish his authority – to him it was simply the done thing, a mark of respect to his female companion. As they looked through the wine list, eventually settling on a local Pinot Blanc, Anna and Hanssen chatted to a waiter whom Anna wasn't familiar with and whose Japanese-accented French took a bit of an effort to adjust to. When he asked where Monsieur and Madame were from, Anna invited him to guess, and exchanged an amused glance with Hanssen when it was established that he looked English while she looked Swedish.

While they waited for their order to arrive, Anna asked Hanssen what being in charge of an NHS hospital was like in this day and age.

"It's…a worthwhile challenge. I'm sure you are aware that the current political and economic climate is rather Siberian. However, my hospital seems to have overcome the first hurdle – it has been recently awarded Foundation Trust Status" – Hanssen's expression was as triumphant as his abhorrence of expressing any extreme emotion would allow.

"That's wonderful, congratulations…but you must forgive my ignorance…?"

"I'll make a rare exception. Foundation Trust Status is awarded to NHS hospitals that demonstrate sufficient financial viability."

Anna's face betrayed her distaste of the idea. "Financial viability? But wouldn't cutting costs entail a serious risk of affecting the quality of patient care? For that matter, what business do commercial concerns have in a sector of literal life-or-death importance to millions of people?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to direct your questions to Messrs Cameron and Clegg", was Hanssen's attempt to brush away her question. Unfortunately for him, Anna was not brushed off easily.

"Oh come now, Henrik. Surely you have some strong opinions on the subject? Given your passion for this profession, I can't imagine you wouldn't."

"My opinions on the subject are of no consequence whatsoever," Hanssen replied rather more brusquely than Anna thought he intended. He got his voice under control and continued: "The NHS in its previous form was hardly a perfectly functioning institution. And the ethics of forcing the hospitals to cut their costs is the subject of most heated debate in every publication, on every channel, almost every day. But as far as my humble person is concerned, it is the simple matter of doing everything possible to ensure the survival of my hospital, at the least cost to my colleagues who dedicate their lives to this work, as well as the patients."

Anna suddenly saw that, behind the smart, ruthlessly disciplined, confident exterior of a brilliantly talented consultant surgeon with a Europe-wide reputation, the man sat across the table from her was very, very tired. She suddenly noticed that there were a couple more wrinkles on his forehead. And that, now that she thought about it, those flecks of silver in his hair weren't as noticeable the last time they saw each other. And that, by the time he had finished his explanation, his usually immaculate posture had relaxed enough for Anna to almost be able to see the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. And she made a wise decision to postpone passionate discussions of UK health policy to a later date.

She smiled softly and raised her glass. "In that case, I offer my sincere congratulations and wish you the best of luck in one nightmare of a job – Skål!"

Hanssen, too, smiled. He raised his glass and looked her steadily in the eye – "Skål".

Sipping her wine, Anna continued: "On the plus side, I doubt there'd be anyone better suited to the task of preventing potential rebellion among the staff – I still cherish the memory of how you dealt with a fellow student of mine at Charing Cross when she was disrupting the class with her diva antics. I think you made her burst into tears just by looking at her!"

"I do seem to have that effect on most women."

"Tell me", Anna leant back in her chair, clearly enjoying this line of enquiry, "have your subordinates come up with any new imaginative nicknames for you? Back in the day, the students stuck to Horrid Henrik, but then again most of them were fresh out of the kindergarten."

"Now, let's see. No specific nicknames come to mind but in terms of imagery I'd say that, having deliberated for some 25 years, British medical professionals appear to have finally settled on a dark, bat-like creature".

"Batman?" Anna deadpanned.

Hanssen covered up what sounded suspiciously like a snort, "No, Dr Bartkiewicz. Not Batman. Something more…vampiric. Though certainly more Max Schreck's Nosferatu than the stereotypical romantic hero, biting willing damsels."

"Oh I don't know, Henrik. You certainly remind me very strongly of Christopher Lee's version. Tall, dark haired, suspiciously lacking a foreign accent…" Anna quickly chased away the vivid mental image of Hanssen enveloping her in a cloak and biting her neck.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Anna."

"Flattery? Perish the thought. I'm simply giving you costume ideas for your next Hallowe'en party."

Their sushi arrived, and conversation moved on from portrayals of Dracula to the origins of the vampire myth, and then to other monsters of European folk tales, and how they reflected the basic fears of the societies in which they originated. This was one of the reasons Anna valued her acquaintance with Hanssen so much. In her experience, professionals in most spheres, particularly when they were extremely successful and particularly when they met each other at conferences, had a clear tendency to limit their conversation to their field. And while this frequently led to truly engaging discussions on topics that Anna cared about deeply, Hanssen was one of only a handful of her professional acquaintances who had the erudition and intellectual curiosity to take the conversation into any conceivable direction. After days of relentless focus on her discipline, the chance to talk about Eastern European folklore, French literature or classical music was a breath of fresh air. She was reminded at those times that she was not only an accomplished scientist but a bright and interesting human being.

Despite herself, Anna found herself watching Hanssen's hands for longer than was excusable, should he have noticed her. His long, elegant fingers made even the mundane task of handling chopsticks look interesting – he manipulated them with the same precision and quiet confidence as when performing complicated surgery, as Anna had had the chance to witness several times. She felt sure that even the most anxious patients would be calmed by the sight of those hands, so in control, so clever, so safe. So warm. So…_so absolutely nothing, stop staring._ The need to drag her attention away from parts of her colleague's anatomy became particularly apparent when, lost in her day dream, Anna missed her glass when attempting to top up her wine and spilled a few drops on her fingers. Without thinking too much about it, she quickly swirled the tip of her tongue across the skin to catch the liquid. To her embarrassment, the rather improper gesture did not go unnoticed by Hanssen, although she did think she saw a flicker of something darkly unfamiliar in his eyes.

His next question was one she had hoped to avoid. "So, may I ask what your plans are, now that your project has been completed? I do not doubt that you could have your pick of research institutes worldwide, assuming you would choose to keep to academic pursuits."

"Actually, I am hoping to return home" – Anna's voice was not as jubilant as she tried to make it.

Hanssen looked pleased but somehow not surprised, "After all those years of glittering successes on foreign shores, the prodigal daughter returns! To what does Britain owe the pleasure? Surely the charms of Alsatian sauerkraut could never wear thin."

Anna's smile was a millimeter short of being entirely convincing. "Well, I suppose I've taken as much from the Strasbourg Institute as it would give. The project is finished, it's a success. Now seems as good a point as ever to move on." Despite herself, she continued. "And then I divorced my husband Mike, over a year ago". _And stop now. You know personal topics are a no-go with Hanssen. This turn in the conversation can only get painfully awkward for both of you._ "He…he preferred the company of other women." _Stop it. _"Throughout our marriage, as it emerged". _Idiot!_ "The divorce wasn't easy. This place simply has too many painful memories."

_Oh you've bloody well done it now, haven't you? What on Earth possessed you?! There's a line. There's a bloody line. And you've just skipped merrily over it, turning a perfectly enjoyable evening, discussing interesting topics with a charming and erudite colleague, into a bloody Jeremy Kyle show. Do you think Hanssen is going to be your Agony Aunt, pat your hand and tell you it's going to be ok? Bloody well done._

Anna had met Mike in Switzerland, when she had just moved there to work at one of the most prestigious hospitals in the region, catering to a filthily rich clientele. They met in the bar of a local cinema where Anna used to escape to when work got too much. He was an English writer who was using the beautiful Swiss landscapes for inspiration. He was witty, charming, interesting. They fell in love. Married. She loved him. She _loved _him. Her career was taking off, his was stagnating. No children. They moved to Strasbourg for Anna's work. He was bored, desperate and bitter, she tried to help. They fought. One day, she found another woman's knickers in his trouser pocket when doing the laundry – good God, how banal. She challenged him, pleaded with him to tell her he wasn't having an affair. He confessed there had been more than one. He begged her not to leave him. He still loved her. Once she had finished collecting his things into bin liners and threw it out of the house, she got into bed and stayed there for a fortnight.

In a desperate bid to play down the emotional intensity, Anna adopted a parody intonation, "I gave him the best years of my life, the ungrateful little twerp!"

Hanssen was very quiet for a while, fiddling with his chopstick. Anna wanted nothing more than to take the chopstick from him and stick it in her own stupid head. And then –

"I am very sorry to hear that. It seems it is those to whom we give the most who are most willing to cast us aside". Hanssen looked positively melancholy for a few moments but carried on the conversation before a shocked Anna could comment: "So, what is it that you intend to do back home?"

Anna grabbed at the straw offered to her. "Well, the most promising option is a senior position with Symbios Healthcare – they offer the perfect combination of research, a commercial approach and the opportunity to work together with public sector. They're based in an NHS hospital, not far from Bristol."

"Yes. Yes, they most certainly are." The change in Hanssen's tone made Anna look up. "As it happens, Symbios Healthcare are based at Holby, the hospital of which I am the CEO."

_No._

_NO._

_Well dip me in chocolate and call me an Easter bunny. _

While Anna was busy picking her jaw off the floor in the most ladylike manner possible, Hanssen continued: "I had a conversation with the Director, Mr Waldmann, last week. The interview panel have unanimously selected you as their desired candidate and learned that you were going to be in Strasbourg this week – as was I. Mr Waldmann therefore asked me to approach you and to gauge your willingness to accept the job offer. I hope you will forgive the theatrics of asking about your plans – I wanted to avoid mentioning my connection to Symbios until I knew your decision."

Something about that last sentence bothered Anna for a millisecond but in truth she was too elated to care, her smile struggling to fit her face. Looking at her, Hanssen couldn't help but smile himself.

"Do I take it that's a yes to Mr Waldmann?"

Anna was still too busy grinning to form coherent words, so she simply nodded.

"Excellent. Judging by your look of wide-eyed surprise when I told you of my connection to Symbios, I gather that Mr Waldmann neglected to mention the fact that I will be your point of contact for all matters concerning cooperation between Symbios and Holby. So it does look like we shall be colleagues again, after all these years. I rather think that deserves a toast, don't you?" Hanssen raised his glass once again. "Na zdrowie, Anna".

"Na zdrowie, Henrik."

She opened her mouth to thank him for conveying the message, to tell him how excited she was about the job, to confirm that she was looking forward to working together with him – but a movement outside the window caught her eye. She turned her head, and the words that came out instead were "Oh hell."

Mike. Her ex-husband. Her ex-husband, Mike. Mike chose this exact moment to appear outside the restaurant where she was enjoying her meal with Henrik Hanssen. Mike looked furious and, what was considerably worse, he looked like he'd already had a fair amount to drink. And Mike looked grimly determined to come in and say hello. Her ex-husband belonged to that puzzling group people who are convinced that, no matter how horrific their transgressions, they deserve forgiveness for the sake of a higher idea – love, talent, sanctity of marriage, fate. It therefore came as a shock to him when Anna divorced him, ruling out any discussion or debate on the subject, despite his numerous attempts to convince her that they were meant to be together "till death do them part" (prompting Anna's rather ill-judged attempt at humour with "that can be arranged"). As a result, he was furious with her, genuinely believed her to be the cause of his suffering and had already made a nuisance of himself in a couple of public places where they had run into each other – Strasbourg was a frustratingly small city sometimes.

"Hell, Dr Bartkiewicz? Well, I must say, I'm rather…" Hanssen's words died away as he watched Anna's change. The smile that was there mere seconds later was frozen on her face, while her eyes betrayed the horror she was feeling, giving her face a grotesque expression. Her lips numb, she managed to get out "my ex-husband is on his way here", when Mike's stocky figure stumbled into the restaurant, causing the people at the other tables to quieten down in surprise. He marched over to their table, knocking into a couple of chairs on his way. Involuntarily, Anna closed her eyes.

_Not this. Please, please God, not this. Not now. Not in front of Hanssen._

"Well, if it isn't Miss Perfect Bloody Perfection, out entertaining herself on a Friday night!" Mike slurred with a drunk's pathetic imitation of sarcasm. "Miss Holier-Than-Thou! Miss Uptight Bloody Arsehole! Miss Cold-Hearted Bitch!"

"Get. Out. Mike." Anna threw the words at him through gritted teeth, not daring to look him in the eye.

"Oh, I'm _sorry_, am I spoiling your little date? Jesus, your tastes have gone downhill, haven't they? Who the hell is this giant dried newt and which fetid swamp did you find him in? Go on, tell me, what's going on, are you shagging him?"

_Why am I not getting up. Why am I not dragging him outside to spare Hanssen this horror. What is wrong with me. Why can't I get up. I'm bigger than him. Why do I still want to curl up into a ball and cry. Why can't I get up._

"Do allow me to enlighten you." Surprised, Anna looked up in time to see Hanssen unfold himself from his chair to his full imposing height, a good head taller than Mike. His tone was quiet, impeccably controlled, icy fury and his face…Anna had to turn away.

"What is "going on" is you hurling obscene insults at Dr Bartkiewicz, behaving like a drunken oaf in a public place and, as I'm unlikely to be mistaken in the field of anatomy, rapidly approaching the point at which you lose control of your bladder. I'm getting the distinct impression that your purpose this evening was to get yourself manhandled into a police van. And unless you leave Dr Bartkiewicz alone immediately, I would take great personal pleasure in arranging that."

To Anna's great relief, Mike definitely looked intimidated, clearly wishing he had skipped the "giant dried newt" part in the barrage of abuse. In a final, desperate bid to regain the upper hand, he slobbered out "Whaddya mean?"

Hanssen leaned down a fraction, and in the most coldly threatening, venomous whisper Anna had ever heard spat out "Get. Out. Of. My. Sight."

Though Mike's grasp of logic was tenuous at the best of times, and certainly made worse by whatever was making its way through his system, the shreds he still possessed were enough to convince him that staying in the restaurant and battling this out was a bad idea. Still a bit stunned, he slowly turned around, gave Anna one last withering stare and trudged out of the room, prompting an almost audible sigh of relief from the entire restaurant.

Anna wanted to thank Hanssen. Wanted to tell him how grateful she was. Wanted to apologise in the most profuse manner about the disgrace that he had to witness. But more than all of those put together, she wanted to crawl into a dark hole and cry her heart out. She managed to squeeze out a quiet "Thank you, Henrik" ("Not at all"), but stayed silent after that, until they had paid the bill and walked out of the restaurant.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Hanssen suggested walking her to her flat and, although it meant a longer journey back to his hotel, Anna accepted the offer with a forced smile and a nod. For a while, they walked next to each other in total silence. Her companion was the first to try and break it:

"I must say, Anna – while your taste in Japanese restaurants is faultless, your taste in husbands does leave a lot to be desired" he said, turning to Anna with a sad smile.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. _Don't cry. Don't you DARE cry. Not yet. _

"Henrik, I… I am absolutely mortified. And disgusted. And I can't apologise enough for making you witness that…that horror. I don't think I've felt so guilty and humiliated in my life. And thank you so much for standing up for me. A mere "thank you" isn't enough. I honestly couldn't say what I would have done without you."

"Please don't mention it. I hardly could have sat in silence and listen to that lout shower you with abuse. And I do hope that you didn't feel I was, ah, imposing myself. I do not doubt for a second that you are perfectly capable of dealing with such individuals with the ruthlessness they deserve – it simply seemed you required some assistance this time. In any case, compared to some of my patients, and indeed their relatives, he was positively angelic."

Despite herself, Anna let out a laugh, and felt herself overcome by a wave of gratitude. "Mr Hanssen, you were my knight in shining armour."

He bowed curtly. "Happy to oblige."

As they walked along, the mood immeasurably improved, Anna suddenly noticed that something to the left of the lane they were walking along, by the low stone wall, caught Hanssen's attention. "Would you excuse me for a moment?" he said, walking over briskly to what looked like a row of bins and stopping to examine an object on the wall next to them. He picked it up, brought it back with him to the main path, and Anna saw that it was a soft toy of a dog with brown fur, big, droopy ears and a fluffy tail, clearly new and barely owned, but already missing an eye and with a split seam on its side from which some stuffing was poking through. It looked like some spoilt child had fiddled with it, gained as much enjoyment from it as the toy was likely to offer and threw it back at his or her exasperated parent, who placed it next to the bins to be picked up by the rubbish collectors. Anna managed an "awwww" before Hanssen, without a word, opened his briefcase and stuffed the toy inside it.

Noticing Anna's extremely amused stare, he said "Well, I do hope you're not suggesting I simply leave him there."

"Oh, it's a "him", is it, Henrik?" Anna was struggling to contain her smile.

"I'm surprised you have to ask", he deadpanned.

A couple of minutes later he added: "I wonder how familiar you are with the German poet Heinrich Heine."

"I've read some of his work. Sadly, only in translation."

"He said once '_Those who burn books will eventually burn people_'". Anna nodded in recognition of the quotation. "At the risk of sounding softhearted, I believe that something similar applies to children who abandon their soft toys by the bins."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

They reached Anna's street after some twenty minutes' walk, engaged in a discussion on Nazism in Germany and its propaganda mechanisms – a topic Anna found considerably more to her liking than her own personal dramas. She stopped Hanssen outside an old four-storey building designed in art deco style, where her flat occupied the right hand side of the top floor.

"Well, this is me. Thank you so much for a lovely evening, minus the gentle turbulence I provided, and for walking me home. It really has been great to catch up". Without thinking too much, she chose to continue, offering her hand to him, "and, of course, I look forward to working under you again."

_Sweet Jesus Christ. Just go home already._

Hanssen, appearing to courteously ignore the idiotic turn of phrase, shook her hand and then, to Anna's surprise and an unexpected feeling in the pit of her stomach, lifted it to his mouth and pressed his warm lips to its cool, smooth skin, all the time keeping his eyes fixed on hers. "Dr Bartkiewicz, it has, as always, been a pleasure." With a final gentle smile, he turned around and started walking in the direction of his hotel, leaving Anna flustered and in dire need of a huge mug of tea and a cigarette.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The following morning, a dull, grey Saturday, Anna was walking out of the front door of her house, on her way to her favourite café for a coffee, croissant and a perusal of the weekend papers, relying on routine to restore her mental equilibrium after last night's emotional rollercoasters. Expecting nothing to block her path, she almost tripped over a cardboard box someone had left on the front step. To her surprise, the box had her name on it. When she opened it, she found the soft toy from last night, with a new eye and the rip on its side magically mended and a note in unmistakable spidery handwriting:

"Anna –

I was wondering if you would be willing to give this unfortunate creature a home. He requires rest after the surgery he had just undergone. I have taken the liberty of naming him Sven.

I look forward to our future cooperation and to welcoming you at Holby.

Regards,

H.H."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Madame Perreault, 78 years of age, a regular of the Café Du Jardin on Rue de la Loi since before the war (as she never tired of telling any patrons who would listen), was sipping her café au lait in her usual corner and waiting for her childhood friend Christine to finally show up for their weekly Saturday coffee-and-gossip session. Her attention was drawn to a young lady sat at the next table who was behaving in the most peculiar manner. She had what seemed to be the politics section of Le Monde open in front of her, and a soft toy of a dog perched on the table next to her coffee cup. She looked as if she was fighting, and losing, a battle with her own face – the corners of her mouth kept twitching, and every little while, an enormous, radiant smile would lighten up her face, only to be covered up, and only to reappear some seconds later. _Must be a young man in her life_, Mme Perreault thought to herself, _I certainly don't recall Le Monde being this amusing_. The old lady drifted off into pleasant reminiscences of the romantic adventures of her youth, when a thought suddenly occurred to her. She lifted her little brown handbag onto her lap, rummaged through it for a pen, and wrote a brief reminder to herself on her napkin to walk past Monsieur Lagrange's bakery on her way home and buy some of her husband's favourite biscuits for tea.


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

**Oh, you guys. YOU GUYS. Thank you so, so much for all the lovely comments! Make me smile every time! Determined to make this story worth your while now :)**

**Now, I'm not sure how regularly I'll be posting new chapters - I seem to have been struck by inspiration at a very busy period in my life - BUT I've already worked out exactly what I want to do with this, I've got a chapter plan and everything. So even if there's a break in posting - do not worry, the story will be completed!**

**This may also be an appropriate time to apologise profusely to anyone reading this who knows anything at all about biomedical engineering, public-private partnerships in healthcare, or how hospitals are run. I am, as the saying goes, pulling most of the technical details in this story out of my arse. So I hope to God that what I've written is at least halfway convincing. Ho hum. **

**Anywho, that's enough waffle from me, hope you enjoy the next installment!**

* * *

Despite the fact that she had started catching herself thinking about Henrik Hanssen with alarming regularity, and that Sven the Dog had been allocated a place of honour on the shelf above her bed, Anna made a firm decision to put a stop to entertaining any foolish ideas about Hanssen becoming anything more than a work acquaintance. The very thought was ludicrous – the man was, always has been and always would be an irreproachable professional, buttoned-up, cool, aloof, focused, in control. That night she had been upset and humiliated, and he was courteously trying to make her feel better. And no matter how many soft toys he rescued from the binmen, how many times he kissed her hand, or how hard it was for Anna to remember either of those things without her chest tightening, it was best to forget it ever happened and, for pity's sake, to get a grip. The tone of friendly professionalism that had been the rule since the early days of their acquaintance would be just fine. An occasional lunch together would still be on the cards. And that should be more than sufficient.

Having arrived at that conclusion, Anna decided to allow herself a week of rest and indulgence after the stress of the conference, before she would have to throw herself into the minutae of the preparations for moving her life back to the UK. She slept in, went for long runs, cooked farewell dinners for her friends in Strasbourg, dropped into her favourite lingerie boutique (a special treat) to stock up on some luxury items – even picked up a one-night-stand at a bar. The grey-haired gentleman with sad eyes and beautiful hands couldn't keep his eyes off Anna in her dark navy pencil dress – really, it would have been rude not to.

The time came to move back home – her new job with Symbios was starting in late July (somewhat bizarre timing, but Anna preferred to start at a new place when it was relatively quiet). Life became a flurry of packing, organising, booking tickets, saying farewell, looking for a flat, travelling, settling in. She paid a visit to her parents, spending a most enjoyable afternoon fiddling with the car in the garage with her dad and chatting about the latest appearances on the bookshelves over a pot of tea with Mary, her stepmother. She had missed England more than she cared to admit – aside from the cultural delights such as the free availability of BBC documentaries, Anna almost squealed with joy in a supermarket isle when it occurred to her that she was once more in the land of cheddar and sausage rolls.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

On her first day at the new job, she arrived at the site with plenty of time to spare to get her bearings and have a look around. The Symbios offices occupied the Western wing of the sprawling hospital building which, though rather unsightly, seemed to be buzzing with activity – cars and ambulances coming and going, paramedics rushing patients through the doors of what Anna presumed to be either the Casualty or the Acute Admissions Unit, window silhouettes of medical staff walking briskly around the wards, going about their daily business of healing the sick. Unconsciously, Anna found herself scanning the rows of windows, wondering which one belonged to Hanssen. She had received an email from him the week before, inviting her to meet him at his office in the afternoon for a welcome, to be followed by a meeting to introduce her to the hospital's senior consultants. Checking the time on her elegant leather-strap watch, she glanced at her reflection in the window of a car, fixed that bloody strand of hair that kept escaping from the bun and set off to her first appointment of the day with the CEO of Symbios.

Mr Waldmann turned out to be as friendly and welcoming in person as he had sounded during her interview that had taken place via a Skype conference call. A rare survivor from the olden days, he was a sweetly eccentric three-piece-suited gentleman in his early 60s, complete with fob watch, and a former engineer himself, to Anna's great relief – she really couldn't abide those ubiquitous management types that had absolutely no technical knowledge whatsoever of the sector they were employed in. In fact, how Mr Waldmann managed to stay at the helm of a major engineering company was a bit of a mystery. And when he informed her in a conspiratory whisper that there was a lovely little garden hidden away on the roof ("simply divine for smokers") and coyly pointed at his pipe collection arranged on a far corner of his desk, Anna felt sure that she would settle in just fine. They talked about her work plan for the first six months, and the fact that, as had been discussed previously, her main focus for this initial period would be cooperation with Holby, conducting a review of the machinery currently in use, putting forward a strategic plan for the acquisition and management of new equipment, preparing a proposal outlining the most pressing research priorities and starting on a cutting-edge joint research project on new biomedical imaging technology, crucial for the improvement of diagnostics. All in all, that sounded rather wonderful. Her next step would then be to agree upon a detailed schedule with Mr Hanssen, and Mr Waldmann shook her hand once again and wished her a good first day.

Before her afternoon appointment, Anna managed to meet the rest of the team (predominantly male and predominantly unattractive, as per usual, though clearly containing some bright sparks), to look around her brand new office, mapping out the future distribution of posters and photographs, and to have the classic solitary first-day-in-a-new-job sandwich on a bench outside. On the plus side, the weather was warm and lovely, on the minus side, the tuna sandwich from the hospital cafeteria was revolting. _I really must find a nice local café. And a lunch companion. _Right on cue, her Blackberry beeped, displaying a message from "H.H." – "_Apologies, must cancel our first meeting – urgent surgery. Please proceed straight to the 2.30"_. Ignoring the disappointed sigh at the back of her mind, Anna disposed of the sorry remains of the "Tangy Tuna Bap" and headed back inside.

A while later, she arrived at the meeting room at 2.30 on the dot, to see the consultants already assembled inside. However, they barely had time for the cursory introductory handshakes before the tall, dark figure of the Swedish Director of Surgery strode into the room.

"My apologies, everyone. As I have notified all of you, I had been summoned to theatre to assist Mr Spence with a particularly complicated procedure. I am happy to inform you that it went perfectly well, however I do apologise for my lateness".

_Gosh, Henrik. It's 14.32 already. Quite, quite scandalous._

On his way to his seat at the head of the meeting table he noticed her. "Ah, Dr Bartkiewicz! Welcome to Holby and thank you for joining us." A brief handshake. A small, formal smile. Her traitorous mind pushed forward the memory of his lips warming her hand.

When everyone was seated he continued. "Now, as you can see, we are joined today by a new colleague, the new senior engineering consultant at Symbios who I believe will be instrumental in helping us to forge a closer alliance with our neighbours. Perhaps you would like to say a few words?"

Thankfully, the fact that there were only five other people at the table meant that Anna's public speaking phobia didn't rear its ugly head this time.

"Hello everyone, as I haven't had the chance to introduce myself to all of you, my name is Dr Bartkiewicz – or as close to that as you can get." The consultants smirked obligingly. _Jesus, Anna, you could really do with a new line._ "I am a biomedical engineer and, as Mr Hanssen has already mentioned, I am here on behalf of Symbios Healthcare to undertake a number of joint projects to our mutual benefit. My first task will be to carry out an assessment of the equipment currently in use and determine what could and should be done to improve its operations. Naturally, I will need to coordinate the schedule of the tests with all of you to disrupt your work as little as possible. Aside from that, I know my way around a power tool – _Let's hope that this round of smirking means that the slight innuendo didn't overstep the mark – _and have been issued a pager so you could contact me in case of a technological catastrophe. I understand that there is already a dedicated team of technicians at Holby, but please do feel free to ask for my assistance as well. It goes without saying that it is my job to make sure that those catastrophes never happen but, in terms of emergency contacts, it's better to have too many than too few, I find. Other than those essentials… I have spent the past 6 years with the French Nephrological Research Institute in Strasbourg as head of the research project on the new Nephronus-ST15 peritoneal dialysis machine. Having just moved back home after a long period abroad, I am currently rediscovering the joys of decent tea, the BBC and cheddar. I am very excited about working with the public sector again and I look forward to working with all of you."

Anna was thanked by round of smiles, some more genuine than others. Hanssen gave her a curt nod and continued, "Thank you Dr Bartkiewicz, I trust you will settle in quickly and hope that our cooperation will be most fruitful. You should know that Mr Spence, our Consultant General Surgeon on the AAU ward was meant to be present as well but he is being delayed by the same patient. I am sure you will meet him in the course of the day. Now, moving on to the next point on our agenda…"

As Hanssen switched the conversation to topics of more direct relevance to his members of staff, Anna used the opportunity to look around at the faces of her new colleagues. There was a kindly-looking, rotund man who looked like he could earn a living appearing as Santa Claus at kids' parties if the whole medicine thing ever got a bit too much – despite having known him for all of ten minutes, Anna felt a strong urge to give him a hug. Next to him sat his polar opposite – a vicious-looking woman, about Anna's age, with almost aggressively straight strawberry blonde hair and phenomenal cheekbones, who looked as if she was in dire physical and emotional need of a large slice of chocolate cake. Her neighbour was a middle-aged black gentleman, calm, assured, friendly, whom Anna had singled out at the very beginning for his particularly pleasant voice. She had always had a weakness for deep, velvety voices, and for those who knew how to use them to their full advantage – that, in fact, was one of the reasons why it had been so hard for her to get over Mike. In the happier days of their marriage, he used to make her lose control just by saying a few choice words in her ear. The last attendee of the meeting was an older, twinkly-eyed woman whose smile had an almost palpable steel edge to it.

Not for the first time, Anna wondered why it was so rare for her to meet women occupying senior posts who didn't look like they could tear her throat out with their teeth if she crossed them, and expected her to do so. Her choice of profession was simultaneously a blessing and a curse in that respect – blessing because the vast majority of her colleagues, both senior and junior, had been men (who she always found easier to get on with), so there was a slim chance of working with an aggressive female anyway. The problem was that those female colleagues she did meet were mostly of the she-wolf variety, all the more pugnacious because of the tougher competition in a male-dominated industry. Clearly, as long as women with such ferociousness in their eyes were the norm in senior management circles, a lot remained to be done for gender equality in the workplace.

While she was busy compiling rash psychological portraits of her new colleagues, the meeting had come to an end, Hanssen thanked everyone present, and the doctors got up to return to their wards. Anna lingered behind deliberately, hoping for a slightly more personal welcome – so far, the mood had been in stark contrast to when they last saw each other outside her Strasbourg flat.

On his way out, Hanssen turned to her with a smile that was only a fraction warmer than before, inviting her to walk with him towards the lifts. "So, Dr Bartkiewicz, are you settling in well? I'm sorry I couldn't attend our meeting earlier today – I am aware that we must reschedule it to discuss your work plan."

"Perfectly understandable, Henrik. There will be time yet." Hesitating for a few seconds, she added "I never thanked you for Sven. He…he's absolutely wonderful. And he's moved with me to my new flat in town." She looked up at Hanssen with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, waiting to see his reaction. Something flitted across his carefully composed features, making his eyes momentarily acquire a softer expression. He was silent for a short while, as if considering his reply.

"I am very glad to hear that…but in future, I wonder if I could ask you to keep to topics of direct relevance to our work. I'm sure you are aware that I insist on a professional attitude to be maintained at all times in the workplace – we are all busy people, it does rather save time."

Anna was taken aback but chose to press on regardless, before the shock fully registered. "Oh, I see. Of course. Naturally. Well, I shall save my updates about Sven's adventures for when you show me the delights of the local lunchtime haunts – the tuna sandwich I bought at the cafeteria downstairs left me positively traumatised!"

They were at the lifts now and Hanssen pressed the button. Anna waited for his answer before she would head back to her office down the corridor on the left. Looking straight ahead, he replied "I'm afraid we generally rely on a local supermarket. I'm sure you'll find your way around." The doors opened, he stepped inside and turned around to face her. "And it's Mr Hanssen, please. If you don't mind."

Anna managed to nod before the doors closed.

_Well, this… this is good! Makes things nice and clear – strictly colleagues, no frills, no lunches, no special relationship. He's right, of course. It can make things terribly awkward if it's known that the Big Boss is particularly friendly towards one of his work associates, especially if that Big Boss is Henrik the Impenetrable. And, for once, some wise foresight on my part – of course his behaviour that night in Strasbourg was a glaring exception to the rule. I didn't waste any time on frivolous fantasies. Everything is crystal-clear now._

Such, roughly, was the course of Anna's thoughts as she reached her office, marched inside and threw her briefcase into a nearby chair with more force than was entirely necessary.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

The morning of the following day, Anna found herself struggling to keep her mind on her work. For some reason, she had not slept well the night before, the nightmares that she used to suffer from coming back to haunt her. Strange, she thought that she had dealt with those memories a long time ago. In any case, she was tired and restless and dragging herself through the preparation of the draft work plan to be discussed with Hanssen that morning took considerably more effort than expected. Printing it off, she noticed that she had a bit of time before her meeting with the Director of Surgery, enough time for a badly-needed caffeine fix. She got up, stretched her arms from side to side, carefully slid the document into her briefcase and set off towards the coffee stall on the ground floor of the hospital building. While the cafeteria food was unpalatable, the coffee stall looked presentable and much more promising.

"Double espresso, please"

"Here you go, there's milk and sugar on the side for you." _Milk? Who the hell has milk with their espresso?_

"I'll have the same please, Katie. Your hair looks gorgeous today, by the way."

Anna turned around to look at the source of the smooth American-accented voice, somewhat unexpected in this place. The owner turned out to be a confident, reasonably attractive, vaguely South-Asian-looking man in his 40s, sporting immaculately manicured stubble and a dangerously tight pair of trousers. The pretty girl behind the counter dissolved into contented giggles. While Anna searched the white bowl on the counter for a sachet of brown sugar, she could see out of the corner of her eye that the American barista charmer was giving her a once over. Judging by the fact that he turned around to face her with a flirtatious expression in his eyes, she clearly fulfilled his requirements.

"I see we're both in need of extra help to face this morning. I was up until the early hours saving lives, what's your excuse?"

_Oh God, one of them._

"I was busy burying the body of the last person who tried to chat me up before midday. It took ages – so difficult to find a quiet spot in this area."

He smirked, holding up his hands in defeat. "Point taken. Though I see you've got an ID badge, so we must be colleagues – but I haven't seen you around here before. And I'm sure I would have noti-"

"No. Don't even finish that sentence."

"Charming. But still – should I know who you are?"

"Possibly. Dr Anna Bartkiewicz, I'm the new senior engineering consultant at Symbios, I'll be working together with Holby on a few projects." She held out her hand.

"Oh right, it's you! I'm Michael Spence." Nice, firm handshake. "I was meant to be at that introductory meeting with you yesterday but, y'know, that whole lives-saving thing came up." _Huh, another Michael. How do they find me?.._

"You didn't miss much. Still, must be hell trying to get around the hospital at all, with all the grateful patients and their relatives clinging to your legs." Anna upped the playful sarcasm in her voice. She swallowed the rest of her coffee and threw the cup in the bin. "Now, if I could just squeeze through this adoring crowd, I better get to my meeting with Mr Hanssen."

"Hey, I've got strict rules about that – appointment slots in the afternoon, non-monetary expressions of gratitude only. And I'm headed that way, too – I'll walk with you."

Rolling her eyes, Anna replied "Of course you will." But she didn't stop him when he followed her to the staircase.

"So, where were you before this?" Goodness, he really was keen on a conversation.

"The French Nephrological Research Institute in Strasbourg. I was the team leader of the research project on the new Nephronus-ST15 peritoneal dialysis machine."

"What? No kidding!" He actually stopped her for a moment, his hand on her elbow. Anna looked at him with a mixture of mistrust and amusement. "No, seriously! I've heard about this, it's meant to be an absolute breakthrough! Look, I'm a general surgeon, kidneys were my first passion, before I got sidetracked. Congratulations, it really is great to meet you!"

"Thank you Mr Spence." Despite herself, Anna was pleased and flattered. "You surprise me, I must say. I didn't know the achievements of us, lowly engineers, were of that much interest to your kind."

"My kind? Jeez, who do you think we medical consultants are, self-centered, arrogant douchebags?" Anna stifled a smile. "Ok fine, don't answer that."

They turned into the corridor where Hanssen's office was located.

"Well look, Dr Barkie… Barkey-whizz…I'm gonna go practise that on my own for a while… You wanna grab a drink after work, so you could tell me all about Nephronus-ST15, in detail? And I could give you the lowdown on Holby and its staff. And I promise you, I'm not as sleazy as I appear."

Her attempts to brush him off clearly failing, Anna let out an incredulous laugh. They stopped outside Hanssen's door.

"Oh, come on! Will you consider it if I learn to pronounce your surname correctly?"

"I'll consider it if you wear a different pair of trousers. I feel sexually harassed just being in their presence!" _Interesting, Anna, where did that come from? Wasn't the plan to make him leave you alone?_

"Oh-ho no, the trousers are here to stay. You'll learn to appreciate their subtle- Morning, Mr Hanssen!"

Anna spun around to find herself facing the Director of Surgery. Hanssen was standing in the doorway, his raised eyebrows betraying the fact that he had been witness to the discussion of Mr Spence's attire.

"Ah, Dr Bartkiewicz. Good to see you are on time. Do come in, take a seat. Mr Spence." He dismissed the American with a brief nod.

Before departing, the consultant glanced at Anna. "I'll see you around".

As she walked into the office, wiping the involuntary smirk off her face, Anna thought she could see Hanssen staring at Mr Spence's retreating figure with a surprisingly hostile expression. But no, she must be mistaken. Anna sat down on one of the chairs in front of Hanssen's wide desk, took out the work plan and reminded herself of the need to obliterate any un-professional thoughts for the next hour.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone,**

**I'm back, sorry about the relatively lengthy absence - as I've said, things have been a bit busy recently but I'm determined to see this story through to the end!**

**To make up for the lack of posting, I've got two whole chapters for you today, for your reading pleasure (let's hope so, anyway!)**

**Do you guys know what I do when I see that I got another review? I throw my arms up in the air and look like an over-excited 5 year old for a few seconds. Even if I'm alone in the room. Well, _especially_ if I'm alone in the room. If that's not an incentive to write me a wee comment, I don't know what is. **

**Also, I've _really_ pushed the boat out with making technical stuff up in the next two chapters, so once again - I'm really, really sorry if none of it makes sense...**

**Anywho, hope you enjoy the next bit!**

**Love and hugs,**

**Dietrich's Ghost**

* * *

To Anna's considerable surprise, and despite the unrelenting tightness of his trousers, she and Michael Spence got on very well indeed. He was amusing, attractive and, above all, fun – if rather predictable in his charm assaults. Besides, his cockiness and unabashed flirtation made him the perfect candidate for a "Lord Flashheart", as Anna called them, after a character in her beloved comedy series. These "Lord Flashhearts" were certain men of Anna's acquaintance with whom she could enjoy a good old no-strings-attached flirt, making the coquetry so outrageously exaggerated that any thought of anything serious actually happening would be ludicrous. Of course, she had to pick her subjects carefully – they had to be experienced enough to catch on to the rules of the game pretty quickly and sufficiently in love with themselves to ensure that Anna not being in love with them wouldn't be a problem. And Michael Spence looked like he matched that particular profile spot on. Besides, establishing early on that she was, to quote Anna, "way too old for him" and he was, to quote Michael, "way too much fun for her to handle", nicely helped to set the right tone.

Within the first couple weeks, Anna got to know her new colleagues and more or less confirmed her first impressions. For instance, Professor Eliot Hope, the cuddly older man, was welcoming, helpful, clearly extremely knowledgeable and very interesting to talk to – a delight to deal with. He approached her on the first day to have a chat over a cup of tea in the staff room and shyly ask if he could get her opinion as an engineer on his research project, an artificial heart, which sounded absolutely fascinating. Anna, of course, told him as much and said that she would love to have a look as soon as she got a time slot, enjoying Eliot's look of utter joy. Ms Jac Naylor, however, was rather different. In all her interactions with Anna her face bore an expression of barely suppressed irritation and it was really quite difficult to agree on the timing of Anna's inspections with Jac constantly brushing her off, always careful to make it understood just how desperately her extraordinary surgical skills were needed every time Anna tried to talk to her. On one occasion, she even thought she overheard Jac referring to her as "the new tech monkey", and only a patient who appeared to be having a heart attack and required Jac's urgent assistance stopped Anna from going over and giving her a piece of her mind.

She was recounting this very incident to Michael over coffee during the lunch break, something that had become a regular feature very quickly, in response to his question on how she was getting on with the Holby colleagues.

Michael sighed. "Look, I know Jac can be a pain in the ass but there's more to her than meets the eye."

"Oh really. Don't tell me – she's a damaged genius. She's got a dark personal history, full of pain and tragedy, but beneath that icy exterior beats a kind, compassionate heart." Anna's annoyance made her overdo the sarcasm a tad but Michael's silence and a very pointed look revealed that she was closer to the mark than she thought.

"I'm not gonna say anything else. Just trust me – don't judge her on first impressions. And you look to me like someone who could deal with Jac's rudeness pretty easily."

It was Anna's turn to sigh. "Oh OK. Fine. It's just that…all this competitiveness and bitchiness – I haven't had to deal with this nonsense since school. And I went to an all-girls boarding school. You can just about imagine what that was like."

"I am honestly trying to but all I can think of is pillow fights in underwear. I know they happen, they are a fact of life, and there is nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise."

"Oh sure. But to be honest with you, most of the time we were just too tired for those, after spending so damn long soaping each other up in the showers and then being spanked by our prefects for being naughty", Anna informed him in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. She smirked at Michael's expression. "Jesus, this really is too easy."

"Hey! Stop being such a buzz kill. I deserve my raunchy fantasies for being otherwise a highly sensitive, delicate, considerate human being."

"Oh, Michael. Of course you have a beautiful soul. Too bad I only want you for your body." She patted him on the hand and reached for her pager, hearing it beep. "Anyway, idle chatter aside, I've been summoned by Hanssen."

"What, again? He "summons" you a hell of a lot, and he's not even your direct employer! Seriously, how often do you see the man?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Michael." She gulped down the last few drops of precious caffeine and blew him a kiss. "See you later."

Despite her deflection, Anna had to admit that he had a point. Since the first day, she found herself seeing Hanssen more than she would have expected – she thought that she would have to work more with the staff in charge of the various wards, now that the Big Boss had given the go-ahead. And yet, Hanssen always seemed to be around – inviting her to his office to ask for her opinion on the most significant technological advances; frequently appearing on whatever ward she was working with; asking for her attendance at various meetings. Of course, none of this was in any way untoward – the perfectly logical explanation was a combination of coincidence and the fact that Holby's technical expertise had been rather lacking and the hospital's CEO valued the presence of an expert in the field. And needless to say, Hanssen maintained his cool, distant manner at all times, never straying from the topic at hand. Truth be told, the problem for Anna was that she found it surprisingly difficult to adjust to the new rules of the game – she had been so used to wonderful, long, interesting conversations with Hanssen that her current exchanges with him tended to leave her feeling more than a bit disappointed. The more frequently she saw him, the more she was reminded of the fact that she had lost a friend, if that was not too strong a word.

Shaking off these unhelpful thoughts, Anna headed down to the basement where most of the hospital's diagnostic imaging equipment was located. This time, Hanssen requested her presence because a patient of his required an MRI scan. Analysing the performance of the machine had been on Anna's list for a while now but for various organisational reasons she had to wait for a suitable patient to turn up, preferably one that required an injection of contrast dye.

Hanssen was already in the scanner room, perusing the patient's notes, and, to Anna's carefully concealed annoyance, so was Jac. The patient must have required a Cardio-GS collaboration.

"Ah, Dr Bartkiewicz. Thank you for joining us. The patient in question has a benign solitary fibrous tumour located in the mid-level of the trachea." As per usual, he launched straight into the medical detail, outlining the specificities of the case for Anna's benefit. She noted Jac's impatient expression at having to waste time on such explanations. Meanwhile the patient himself appeared, a tall, stocky middle-aged man with unruly grey hair, accompanied by a nurse. Hanssen turned around to face him.

"Mr Adler, this is Dr Bartkiewicz, our senior engineering consultant. She will be carrying out a few tests of her own in the course of your procedure."

"I will be testing the performance of the MRI scanner, Mr Adler. Naturally, we have no reasons to suspect that the equipment is malfunctioning, so the results of this procedure will be perfectly valid. However, since my testing will increase the duration of the scan, I must ask whether you would mind that. If you object strongly, perhaps if you find the enclosed space difficult to deal with, I will wait for another patient."

"Oh no, no problem at all." The patient smiled with an expression of someone trying to remain cheerful in the face of a distinctly unpleasant situation. "Besides, as you can see, I'm not exactly in a hurry."

"Mr Adler is not being entirely genuine." Anna glanced at Hanssen, surprised at the sudden glimmer of excitement in his eyes. "In a relatively short while rehearsals for his eagerly anticipated production of "The Ring of the Nibelung" are due to start at the Royal Opera House in London. For the sake of Wagner enthusiasts everywhere, I think we best get on with Mr Alder's treatment without further ado."

"That's what I've been trying to do for a while now". Jac's irritated voice interrupted the delighted director's attempt to start a conversation and prompted Anna and Hanssen to follow her to the control room while the patient was being helped onto the moving tray. Anna took her place at the computer, making sure all systems were operational. Once the scan had started and the waiting began, her curiosity got the better of her.

"So, Wagner…I must say, Mr Hanssen, I had you down as more of a Bach man." Keeping her eyes on the screen and her tone even, she waited for his response, hoping he wasn't about to go into his bloody headmaster mode again and reprimand her for taking liberties with the conversation.

"Is that so, Dr Bartkiewicz? Do elaborate", came the drawling reply from somewhere behind her chair.

"Methodical. Perfectly balanced. Mathematically precise in his harmonies. Sounds rather like your style, wouldn't you say?"

"However flattering your implication, I find Bach rather dry."

Anna scoffed at the idea of Hanssen accusing someone else of that particular shortcoming. "Dry? One of his most famous choral works is "St Matthew's Passion" – the clue is in the title!"

"Quite. Though I believe that refers more to the subject matter than its execution. Wagner's music is more than a mathematical exercise – it is sweeping, magnificent, revolutionary for its time. Not to mention the fact that he had a much broader range of influences than Bach who never strayed far from religious topics."

"Let's leave aside the fact that you've just accused one of the greatest classical composers in the history of mankind of producing nothing more than "mathematical exercises", shall we?" Without noticing it, Anna was getting drawn into this discussion, relishing the chance to stretch her debating muscles. "As for Bach's relationship with religion, at least he made something beautiful out of it, something that will last for centuries. Wagner merely used it to eliminate his Jewish competitors. Didn't he write a viciously anti-Jewish pamphlet, one of the milestones for anti-Semitism in Germany? He was Hitler's favourite composer, for goodness' sake!"

"Aside from Wagner, Adolph Hitler was also rather fond of animals, in fact I believe he was vegetarian. I do hope you're not suggesting we should go around stuffing bacon down the throats of the unwilling in protest?"

Anna smirked, relishing the subtle, deliciously teasing note in his voice. Why, why did the stupid man insist on denying them, denying _her_ this fun on a daily basis? She turned around to inform him that he was avoiding her point, when, true to form, Jac cleared her throat in a manner of someone bored to tears and about to lose her patience.

Anna spun her chair around to face her instead. "Ms Naylor. Do you have some strong opinions on Wagner's anti-Semitism you wish to air?" Normally, when starting a new job, Anna waited for the first noble attempt of a new colleague to pronounce her surname before relieving their suffering and suggesting they switch to first names. But with Jac it gave her special sadistic pleasure to address her as Ms Naylor, knowing that she was unlikely to manage to return the favour and not sound silly. Perhaps her school days were not that far behind her after all.

"No. What I _wish_ is to be able to concentrate on my job and for my colleagues to deign to do the same without prattling on about topics that have nothing to do with Mr Adler's tumour."

"Concentrate on our jobs?" Anna lifted one eyebrow in mock surprise, still sitting with her back to the monitors. "The multiplanar axial, sagittal and coronal images obtained following contrast administration that we have seen so far demonstrate that the patient's fibrous tumour has shown no sign of change in terms of mass or dimensions compared to his previous scans. However, we are only approximately 17 minutes 40 seconds into the procedure, so we may see evidence to the contrary in due course. Moreover, I'm happy to the report that the magnetic field calibration parameters are within the acceptable range, that the image resonance is satisfactory for this model and that the speed of the procedure is somewhat lower than the manufacturer's standard but, given the lack of other causes for concern, I believe that is simply part of the usual wear-and-tear."

Well, to be fair, that last bit was absolute bollocks. Anna had no idea how the speed of the procedure compared to the standard – she'd have to look that up later. Luckily, being good at lying convincingly and the fact that no one present could prove her wrong meant that she could easily hide the fact that the exchange with Hanssen did make her drop the ball on that count.

"Yeah, that's great to hear, once you're done lecturing me on calibration parameters do you think you could zoom in on the upper right quadrant of that last image?"

Anna obliged, returning to the computer and noting the faintest hint of amusement on Hanssen's face. Once the required image was on the screen, the two consultants stepped closer and started discussing its implications. To get a better look, Hanssen moved around Anna's chair and placed his hand next to the keyboard to support his weight as he leaned in. He was suddenly close enough for her to catch the subtle scent of his aftershave and to feel the warmth radiating from his body. His tie brushed across her hand, tickling the sensitive skin. Anna became extremely aware of how very, very small the control room really was.

The procedure was soon completed, Anna printed off her results, nodded her thanks to Hanssen and Jac and set off back to her office. Something about this was very odd. Why did he rise to the bait when she mentioned Bach? Why did he not remind her of the need to focus, to eliminate all unnecessary distractions? They had been speaking to each other regularly and this was the first time that he let the cool CEO façade slip. What was different?

Later, when Anna Bartkiewicz would look back on this time, it would occur to her that this was the precise moment when she realised that, as far as Henrik Hanssen was concerned, she was absolutely and truly stuffed – those few seconds before common sense and logic prevailed and the ridiculousness of that particular thought became apparent. The few seconds when she felt stomach drop at the realisation that Hanssen was showing off his erudition in front of Jac Naylor.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Inevitably, Anna found herself heading towards Hanssen's office yet again at the end of the day, to hand in a few documents he had requested from the Symbios records file. It had been a long and tiring day, and she was looking forward to getting to her flat, switching on the radio and spending the evening cooking something nice for herself, ignoring that cruel little voice at the back of her head that mocked her for putting so much effort into dinner for one. Could even pick up a bottle of wine on the way home, why not live a little. Just a brief knock, come in, here are the documents you asked for, thank you, Dr Bartkiewicz, have a nice evening, you too, done, free to go. Don't loiter, don't launch into an extensive discussion of classical music, don't get on boring, uptight Henrik's nerves.

As she approached his office, her busy, tired mind didn't even register the strange sound – it took her a few seconds to work out what was wrong with the picture. When she did, she could hardly believe her ears. She paused outside the door. Unless there was a strange man who had somehow gained access to his office, Henrik Hanssen, Director of Surgery of Holby City Hospital, was _singing._ And not merely singing, but singing gently, in a lovely baritone. She raised her hand and knocked on the door. The singing abruptly stopped. She waited. After a short pause, she heard an unusually quiet "Come in".

Pushing the door open, Anna was about to deliver her prepared phrase but she only got as far as "Mr Han-" before she was interrupted by a "Shhhhh!". Puzzled, she looked up and almost dropped the folder she had in her hand. Hanssen, besuited and bespectacled as ever, was standing in front of her, cradling a sleeping baby in his arms. The baby looked completely out of it. Hanssen looked utterly unfazed.

They stood facing each other for a few moments while Anna racked her brain to come up with something appropriate to say, fighting the temptation to giggle at the sheer ludicrousness of the situation. When she spoke, she made sure to keep her voice down.

"So, I see the rumours going around the hospital are true."

"Rumours, Dr Bartkiewicz?"

"You really _are_ the boogeyman who steals small children. You're not…you're not going to eat it, are you?"

"What an absurd suggestion. It's nowhere near ripe enough." Conceding the need to provide some form of an explanation, he continued. "Someone had left it in my office. I assume that this has happened for a reason, however bizarre, and that someone will be along to collect it in due course."

A rogue thought flashed through Anna's mind. _Henrik Hanssen, the man who can identify the gender of a toy dog at ten paces but struggles to do so with a human infant._ She felt laughter bubble up inside her, along with an unexpected, overwhelming feeling of lightness, of warmth, of happiness, of panic. She feared she would not be able to contain it, that it would overflow, that she would burst out laughing, that she would do something profoundly stupid like run up to him, and put her arms around him, and hold him, and not let him go for a very long time.

With an almost inhuman force of will she squeezed herself back into the tight confines of Dr Bartkiewicz, engineering consultant, standing in the office of her superior, coolly ignoring the fact that they were whispering and there was a baby present.

Well. Almost.

"I'm sorry, may I ask… were you singing before I came in?"

"Indeed I was. Although I wonder whether you might not do the same when faced with an upset infant."

She couldn't help but let out a laugh at that suggestion, quickly covering it up. "Mr Hanssen, I have the voice of a heartbroken hyena. I only sing in self-defence." She suddenly remembered the reason for coming into his office in the first place. "Oh yes, here are the files you asked for" she said, stretching her arm to hand over the folder, realising mid-movement that his hands were busy holding up a tiny human being and diverting the papers to his desk. Behind the ever-present cool expression, his eyes twinkled with amusement as he thanked her.

"Well, ah… I hope this…. situation gets resolved soon, and I wish you a pleasant evening." She smiled curtly and turned to leave when his voice stopped her in her tracks.

"One more thing, Dr Bartkiewicz." She turned around. A smile was tugging at the corner of his lips. "Should you be concerned about the infant's welfare, the least I can do is to assure you that I was not singing Wagner to it."

She tried not to snort, she really did. "I'm very pleased to hear it, Mr Hanssen. Although admittedly I have heard that Wagner's music is better than it sounds." Anna enjoyed the appreciative smirk as he recognised both the quotation and her apparent concession to his earlier arguments.

"I'm glad you have come around to share Mark Twain's point of view."

"_Heard_, Mr Hanssen. Not concluded." _Ha, got him_. "Have a nice evening." She almost made it out of his office and into the safety of the corridor without saying anything unnecessary but some unknown force pushed the phrase out of her. "You really do have a lovely voice." She didn't wait for his reply, hearing his "Good evening, Dr Bartkiewicz" behind her as she shut the door.

As she walked towards the exit, passing that adorably eager Chinese doctor from the cardio-thoracic ward, Anna mulled over the day's events and established that the concluding summary could be expressed in two simple words, two and a half to be precise.

_I'm. Fucked_.

* * *

**Two more things:**

**1) I'm pretty sure Guy Henry's voice is a tenor but "baritone" sounds sexier. Can anyone provide an informed opinion on this?**

**2) If you don't know who Lord Flashheart is, go sit in a corner and think about your life. Or, better still, go watch _Blackadder_. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

"_You utter, utter bastard."_

"_If I'm a bastard, you're a wimp. Don't you have Eastern European blood? Aren't your people good at this sort of thing?"_

"_Fine, I'm a wimp. I also feel like I'm stuck on a merry-go-round with someone punching me in the head."_

"_Aw, poor baby. You're still the Robot Queen, don't worry."_

"_I didn't. Not the dance. Oh God. I did."_

"_No comment. Take some painkillers, drink some water (I'm a doctor), I'll check on you later. X"_

Anna read the last message and gingerly bent down to slide her phone back into the front pocket of her bag. She had always taken great comfort in her ability to deal with difficult situations, whether social, emotional or professional, in a calm and sensible manner – analysing the problem, drawing up potential solutions, making a plan and following it. So why on earth did she feel that the most appropriate course of action to deal with the grimly inevitable onslaught of complex feelings towards Holby's Director of Surgery was to let Michael take her out and get her absolutely _trousered?_ Trousered to the point of Robot Queen. Trousered to the point of Robot Queen on a Wednesday, for God's sake! She should have known better – not only that going out on a school night was an extremely bad idea, but also that Michael would be an expert at getting people drunk. In fairness, she did have a good time, up to a point – she met some of Michael's friends who were interesting and fun, and there was good music and dancing and cocktails. And, most importantly, her drunkenness manifested itself in performing a rather embarrassing dance routine, and not in taking the flirtation with Michael too far. Rule Number One of the Lord Flashheart game – never sleep with them; it only encourages them.

By the fifth Margarita, Anna had steamrollered cheerfully over Rule Number Two – don't talk to Lord Flashhearts about other men. Firstly, it only encourages them, and secondly, they're not there to deal with your man problems. They are there to help you _forget_ about your man problems. Thankfully, Anna had still had the presence of mind to cover her tracks by using a time-tested trick – hide the truth by providing as much detailed and misleading information as possible. Thus, she regaled poor Michael with the story of the entirely fictional "Rick", the boyfriend of Anna's good friend from university, who was this jazz pianist with gorgeous blond hair, a bit younger than her, with whom she really felt a connection and had so much in common and who she thought was really unhappy in his relationship etc. etc. etc.. The true identity of the gentleman thus carefully obscured, the story boiled down to the fact that Anna was dangerously close to becoming infatuated with a physically and emotionally unavailable man and didn't know what to do about it. And it was entirely likely that Michael did give her some valid advice, beyond the standard "just throw yourself at him" response. Unfortunately, Anna never got to find out what his advice actually was because the music for her Robot Queen number came on, promptly putting a stop to any halfway sane conversation.

She had to admit that, whilst undoubtedly idiotic, last night's strategy had not been completely unsuccessful – instead of occupying her mind with messy emotions and thoughts of how to make them go away, her priorities switched to surviving to the end of the working day in one piece, and at least making some minimal progress with her in-tray. Having placed a jug of water and a glass on her desk and gulped down some Nurofen, Anna started on her paperwork, silently praying that no one would come along and disturb her, at least until the painkillers kicked in.

Inevitably, ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Anna braced herself and resignedly invited whoever the hell was bothering her to come in. The door flew open, and in marched a short, unbearably eager-looking man with the pallid, awkward demeanour of a team captain of a school maths team. His pre-prepared maniacal grin faltered slightly as he caught sight of her.

"Oh, er…HELLO, are you…are you Dr Bartkiewicz?" The little man had a rather bizarre, exaggerated manner of enunciating his words – as if they were too big for his tiny, extremely mobile features. Still, got the surname right. Which was probably more than Anna could do herself on that particular morning.

"Indeed I am. And how can I help you, Mr…?" Anna slowly got up from her chair, doing her best to disguise the effort it cost her.

"Binns, Mr George Binns." He rushed forward to give her a frantic, clammy handshake. "Sorry about the confusion there, I just rather expected you to be a man – y'know, you being a senior engineer and all" He giggled like a ten-year-old who's just said a rude word within earshot of his parents, inviting Anna to join in the hilarity. When she failed to do so, his face dropped instantly, adopting a deathly serious expression. "Of course, that's not to say that women can't be senior engineers, no, no we definitely should encourage more gender equality in the work place, and particularly in the sciences. Besides, you must be REALLY good, then, to get so far! No, but of course what I mean is…"

_Jesus Christ. I am nowhere near conscious enough for this. _

To his (minimal) credit, George Binns at least seemed to be aware that we was digging himself into a hole, and as much out of pity as out of the desire to get rid of him as quickly as possible and to be left to suffer her hangover in peace, Anna intervened to speed up the process.

"That's quite alright Mr Binns, shall we get to the point, perhaps? How can I help you?"

"Oh! Yes, of course, certainly. You see, I'm Holby's new Business Manager and I'm very keen to get this hospital back in shipshape!"

_If he says "shipshape" like that again, I will use the last dregs of my energy to stab him in the eye with my pen_.

"I see. How do you intend to do so and what role do I play in your plans?"

"Well, you see, it's all about being "cost-effective", that is to say cutting unnecessary costs."

"Thank you Mr Binns, I am aware of the meaning of cost-effectiveness."

"Oh _good_, I'll skip that bit then, shall I? The gist of the matter is – I've had a look at your work plan, particularly the section relating to the review of Holby's current machinery, and I must say that it is far from the most efficient way of going about things. You see, you have scheduled your review of the machinery on the cardio-thoracic ward while the drift rate of its present value is considerably above its discount factor for this time period. Reviewing it now and making investment decisions on the basis of the current review would thus incur considerably higher costs than if you were to delay the inspection by…" he opened the file he had in his hand and flicked through a few pages. "…128 days. That would be the optimal time for highest efficiency."

"So Mr Binns, if I understand you correctly – you propose to delay my inspections of all equipment used by the Darwin Ward by, ah, 128 days. And you would presumably like to consult me to get an engineer's perspective on the…" – Anna searched for the right word, trying very hard to avoid using "absurdity" – "…feasibility of such a scheme?"

"Oh no, Dr Bartkiewicz, that will not be necessary." Mr Binns looked up at her with a prim little smile. His voice had unexpectedly acquired a steely quality. "I have presented my analysis to Mr Hanssen and the decision to go ahead has already been made. I just thought I would drop by and let you know in person. Besides, I'm sure Mr Waldmann wouldn't mind having more of your office hours being spent on Symbios – I've heard there's a fascinating research project on diagnostic imaging in the pipeline? That should be _fun_!"

That expression of patronising excitement on Anna's behalf on Mr Binns tiny face provoked such fury in her that she almost forgot about her hangover. Fighting to keep her tone civil, she replied through gritted teeth:

"I am glad you hold the work of engineering research in such high esteem."

"Oh certainly! Very glad to hear you agree with my reasoning. Your new work plan will be sent to you shortly. Lovely to meet you, Dr Bartkiewicz." And with that the miniature Business Manager shook her hand once again (Anna winced) and sped out of her office, no doubt in a great rush to ruin someone else's morning.

Still fizzing with rage, Anna sat back down, took some deep breaths and tried to understand exactly what had just happened. So, Holby has a new Business Manager. And this Business Manager is a hyperactive, fresh-out-of-business-school lunatic who had somehow managed to compile all data on Darwin's equipment _and_ analyse it in the space of a couple of days, at most. And who now feels entitled to interfere with her work in the brashest way possible to implement a strategy that is underdeveloped at best and downright insane at worst. There was no conceivable way that Hanssen would have approved it. She would just have to go and talk to him – as soon as she could move without grimacing.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

A while later, feeling considerably more human after a fail proof combination of water, coffee and a bacon sarnie, Anna knocked on the door of Hanssen's office and followed the invitation to come in. He was sitting behind his desk, engrossed in paperwork, all documentation in front of him sorted into neat little stacks, arranged in parallel and an equal distance away from each other. He was back to his default Director of Surgery mode, with no trace left of the man who would sing lullabies to a baby. He glanced up as Anna walked in and drawled the usual greeting.

"Ah, Dr Bartkiewicz. What can I do for you?"

_Don't even DREAM of letting your mind take you in that direction_.

"Mr Hanssen, there appears to be an over-excited sixth-former loose in the building, telling me how to do my job."

He didn't stop sorting through his papers, giving off the impression of someone extremely busy who would appreciate not being bothered with trivial matters.

"I assume you are referring to Mr Binns, and if that is indeed the case I rather thought you would be above dismissive comments based on his appearance or general demeanour."

Anna groaned inwardly. This was clearly not going to be an easy conversation.

"Fine, his appearance and general demeanour aside, Mr Binns has informed me this morning that I am to receive a new work plan from him, whereby I should delay my inspections of Darwin's equipment until, and I quote, "the optimal time for highest efficiency"."

Hanssen looked up at her again with a blank expression, evidently waiting for her to clarify exactly what the problem was.

"Should I take your silence to mean that you really did approve this plan and that the conversation this morning wasn't a figment of my imagination?"

"Mr Binns had conducted a thorough analysis of all the data we have at our disposal and the figures demonstrate irrefutably that there is a more efficient way of carrying out equipment inspections. We need to cut costs and Mr Binns analysis has showed a simple way of doing so that does not incur any negative effects on the staff or the patients."

"But the last time the machinery was inspected was three years ago! What if there is an unexpected problem when a piece of equipment is urgently needed? What if something goes terribly wrong?"

"That risk has been factored into the analysis. Besides, I have every faith in yourself and our technical team to deal with glitches that may or may not occur."

Unbelievable. This was simply unbelievable. In desperation, Anna tried to appeal to him with one last argument. "But don't you think it would have been germane to get an engineer's opinion on this? Don't you think I should have been consulted, at least?"

"Dr Bartkiewicz, as much as your expertise is valued, this is a matter for an economist. Unless you can present me with the complete economic analysis of an alternative inspection schedule that achieves the same cost reduction, I'm afraid you will have to trust Mr Binns. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have rather a lot of paperwork to process."

With that, he returned to his papers, indicating that any further attempts at discussing the issue would be surplus to requirement. Without saying another word, Anna angrily marched out of his office, trying to stop herself from spontaneously combusting from sheer irritation. That the new Business Manager was a number-obsessed fool had been clear from the start. But how on earth did he manage to persuade Hanssen – cool, rational, sensible Hanssen – to agree to something so blatantly…_stupid_? As she tried to compose herself for the second time that day, Anna sadly noted that, at least, fighting her highly inconvenient attraction to the Director of Surgery had become rather easier.

# # # # # # # # # # # #

When faced with confusion and disorder, Anna played chess. She had been taught to play by her grandfather when she was a little girl – he had somehow managed to protect an exquisite old chess set from the horror and the destruction of the Second World War and the chaos of the evacuation from Poland. At first, her interest was drawn to the intricately carved figures with amber detailing that had seemed to come from a different time, a different universe, where the world wasn't dominated by mass-produced plastic. Gradually, she learned to appreciate the elegance of the game itself and the intellectual satisfaction it provided and, later in life, grew to depend on its order, harmony and beautiful logic to restore her mental equilibrium when things got tough.

She was rather surprised to accidentally discover that Michael Spence was also a fan when she saw him animatedly discussing a game that a patient had set up on his bed to help him pass the time. And so, their regular meetings had had another element added to them once Anna had discovered an old, clearly unused chessboard in the staff room. They rarely had the time to play a complete game in one sitting but Anna, for one, was certainly grateful for the slots of 20 or 30 minutes when she could block out all unnecessary distractions and the world made perfect sense for a short while. And though she was clearly the better player, Michael put up enough of a resistance to make the games worth her while. Besides, she always enjoyed the sight of attractive men engaged in intellectual pursuits.

A couple of days after the unwelcome appearance of Mr Binns, Anna and Michael were sitting at their usual table, the chess board in front of them and cups of coffee on the side, combining the game with the discussion of recent events. Anna had an unfair advantage, her natural ability to multitask enabling her to vent her frustrations about Hanssen and his new Business Manager and spot the holes in Michael's strategy at the same time.

"Just be grateful you're not a full-time Holby employee. Binns is actually making us to go _seminars_ – compulsory attendance. Not like I've got patients to treat, or surgery to perform, or lives to save." Michael swallowed his rage to concentrate on limiting the damage from Anna's Sicilian Defence opening.

"Funny way to cut costs, isn't it? Dragging doctors away from their direct responsibilities…" Anna fiddled with the bishop she had already snatched from her opponent. "And anyway, this whole cost-efficiency business – first they cut the staff, now they're saving money on machinery tests – what's next? Time limits on treating patients? Getting rid of difficult cases by sending them off to another hospital?"

"Don't even say it out loud. If that actually happens, I'm blaming you."

Anna smirked, silently grateful that Michael didn't pick up on her use of "they", rather than blaming Hanssen directly. A small part of her still believed that he had enough sense and enough commitment to his profession and his patients to not let this get too far. And speaking of Hanssen –

"Anyway, moving on from Binns' insanity, thanks for looking after me on Wednesday. I really did have a good time, despite overdoing it a bit with the Margaritas. And…erm…I think I harassed you with stories about Rick and my doomed love life. Sorry about that, that was almost definitely Too Much Information."

Michael looked up from the board with an amused expression. "Anna, baby, don't you worry. You were great, and your Robot Queen moves will stay with me for a _long_ time." He ducked a slap aimed at his arm. "As for this Rick guy – give it a go, but don't let him bring you down. Sounds like a bit of a jerk to me. Besides, it's only a matter of time before you realise that we are meant to be together." He looked at Anna with his best "come hither" eyes and reached for her hand in a mock display of undying love. Anna let out a giggle and was about to reply in kind when she noticed a foreign presence out of the corner of her eye.

"Queen to f6, surely, Dr Bartkiewicz." The voice behind her was unmistakeable. And the tone was distinctly icy.

The memories of her earlier frustration and of the way he dismissed her concerns the last time they spoke rushed back. Not deigning to turn around, Anna coldly replied:

"Rather careless of you to ignore the knight in 5 moves' time, Mr Hanssen."

"Hardly careless. The positional advantage more than compensates for the loss of the queen. Some sacrifices are worth making, I'm sure you'll agree." He was silent for a moment. "Then again, some aren't."

Judging by the direction of Michael's eyes, she guessed that Hanssen was looking straight at him. For a while, a heavy, tense pause hung in the air. Anna was the first to break it.

"I appreciate the advice. Let's hope that all of us are able to make that distinction." The implication was rather heavy-handed but she was too wired to care.

"Indeed. Good afternoon, Dr Bartkiewicz, Mr Spence." She heard his retreating footsteps and released the breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

"Christ, what's his problem?" Anna muttered. Of all the times for him to suddenly appear behind her, the moment when Michael was unwittingly talking about the suitability of Hanssen as her romantic interest was far from ideal. Focussing on appearing as if her annoyance was linked to the previous discussion on cutting costs, Anna desperately hoped that Michael wouldn't put two and two together. She glanced up to find him looking pensively at the board.

"You know, despite him being an uptight Ice King most of the time, you and Hanssen are actually very similar. You could be twins."

_Oh God. Deflect! Deflect!_

"Twins?! Michael, darling, if you're implying that I look Hanssen's age, prepare to be stabbed to death with your own bishop."

"No, I'm implying that you dye your hair. Ow!" Anna's second swing at his arm landed on target. "But seriously – I've seen you together several times – you match each other in verbal sparring, you've got the same dry sense of humour, the same deadpan delivery, the same intellectual hobbies. And aside from your gorgeous, _gorgeous_ blonde hair, you even look a bit like him – all tall and long limbed and Nordic. If it wasn't for the Robot Queen and your ability to drink a barful of Margaritas, I'd think you two were related."

"Right. Firstly – will you _ever_ let the Robot Queen thing go? (_"Nope"_, Michael replied cheerfully). Secondly, my hair _is _gorgeous, so glad you've noticed. Thirdly, as much as I respect our esteemed Director of Surgery, I really hope that I don't come across as some dried-up, uptight, emotionally repressed…"

_Think of more unflattering adjectives! The more you can think of, the more convincing this will sound!_

"…work-obsessed, gloomy, depressing beanpole!"

Michael looked a bit taken aback by the outburst. "Jeez, he really pissed you off with this Binns business, didn't he? Alright, point taken. Hanssen is a depressing beanpole, you're a passionate, fun-loving sunflower. At least I definitely know whom I'd rather have at my birthday party next Saturday."

"That's better. I've always wanted to be thought of as a "passionate sunflower". And I'd love to come, as long as you don't spend the entire evening convincing me that having another cocktail is a really good idea. I can still feel the aftershock from that hangover. Deal?"

Michael smirked. "Deal".

And thus, peace restored and crisis averted, Anna turned her attention back to demolishing the rest of Michael's chess defences.

* * *

**A friendly nod to abski0206 there, as the beloved Polish grandad resurfaces! xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again,**

**Big thanks to my lovely reviewers - hadrians77, Mrs Waistcoat, Lauraz and .Spiby, with an extra special thanks to hadrians77 who has so far reviewed every single chapter! What a trooper :)**

**Thanks for the words of encouragement concerning techno-babble - as well you understand, I'm not exactly writing this story to share with you the wonders of biomedical engineering - but it's nice to give some flavour to the plot, I think. I've kinda dug myself into a hole with this chapter and had to make a bunch of stuff up but this should be the last bit of techno-nonsense, .Spiby, worry not!**

**Here we are then, chapter 6, enjoy! xx**

* * *

"Good morning, Mr Hanssen."

"Good morning, Dr Bartkiewicz. And how is your work on-"

"Could you hold the door, please?" Anna followed the American-accented request that interrupted Mr Hanssen's enquiry, keeping her finger on the button until Michael Spence jogged into the lift, running his fingers through his rain-soaked hair, forcing the Swede to take a step back to give him space. It was a particularly revolting morning, damp and dull and grey, and everyone had to fight through a torrential downpour to get to work. Anna noted with amusement the difference in her colleagues' attire – Hanssen in his practical but distressingly unstylish mac, all buttons done up, with a sizeable umbrella on his arm, standing next to Michael who was sporting the wet, ruffled look of someone regretting his choice of a nicely-cut but distinctly non-waterproof jacket. Still, as far as the wet-and-ruffled look went, Michael Spence pulled it off very well indeed.

As ever, he started chattering straight away, not caring one jot about the presence of the Director of Surgery in the lift – something which was usually enough to silence any attempts at a conversation.

"So, you're coming tonight, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Anna smirked at him. She felt rather than saw Hanssen tense up behind her and wondered yet again what on earth Michael had done to provoke such resentment – whenever she observed them interact, she could practically feel the temperature in the room drop by a few degrees. For reasons she didn't stop to analyse, this prompted her to speak particularly warmly to her friend in Hanssen's presence, enjoying the feeling of pushing his buttons. "Happy birthday!" She leant over to Michael, lightly resting her hand on his shoulder and kissed his cold, stubbly cheek. "What's the dress code?"

"_Well_," - his flirtatious, molten-chocolate look made Anna fear he was going to take their habitual flirtation a step too far, ignore Hanssen's presence completely and say something rather inappropriate. "It's a _very_ nice restaurant so wear something… gorgeous."

"I'll do my best to match the expectations." As the lift doors opened at her floor, she turned around to nod her goodbyes to the two consultants just in time to see Hanssen mutter "many happy returns" to Michael, with the expression that would not have been out of place at a funeral service. An unpleasant, worrying feeling tugged at the corner of her mind but Anna quickly chased it away to mentally compile her to-do list on the way to the laboratory.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

The patient, a 15-year-old girl with a heart condition and a nasty pheocromocytoma, was lying sedated on the operating table, with Henrik Hanssen and Jac Naylor at her side, quickly outlining the course of the procedure for the benefit of the team. The heart-lung machine was standing at the ready, in case the patient had to be put on bypass. The case was challenging, made considerably more complicated by her weak heart, but certainly nothing two of the most experienced and talented surgeons in the hospital couldn't cope with. After Jac's practised hand made the immaculately precise incision, the pair set to work in a companionable silence, all sources of friction that characterised their professional relationship forgotten as they concentrated on the task at hand, each quietly relishing the time spent doing what they did best, when all distractions of their daily lives could be pushed aside.

Suddenly, a beeping alarm noise sliced through the idyllic calm of the operation theatre. Jac glanced up at the screens.

"BP is dropping". She swiftly felt through the cavity, trying to locate the bleed. Given the patient's heart condition, this development was far from desirable.

Briefly looking up from his work, Hanssen issued the command. "Right, could we put her on bypass, please."

The technician quickly checked the tubes and flicked the switch. The machine whirred to life and the surgeons turned back to the patient when a strange, choking noise drew the attention of the entire room. To the creeping horror of everyone present, the LED lights on the front panel flickered weakly and the humming grew quieter and quieter, leaving no doubt that something was very wrong indeed. Within a few seconds, the machine shut down completely. The silence in the operating theatre was deafening. Trying to hide her shock, Jac addressed the technician:

"The other heart-lung machine, in here, now."

The man's voice shook slightly as he answered. "It's currently in use in the other theatre." He dropped to his knees, flicking the switches and pushing the buttons, desperately trying to find the source of the problem, but his efforts were in vain.

Jac snapped, barking at the technician: "_Why _didn't you do your job? Why wasn't this checked?" She turned to Hanssen, her eyes wide, panic taking over. "Great, what do we do now?"

The Swede was silent for a few seconds, calculating the risks of carrying on with the surgery without the bypass. Keeping his voice calm and even, he said "Page the senior engineer on duty, please." He turned to Jac. "Calm down, Ms Naylor. If we stop the bleed, we still have some time at our disposal before the situation turns truly critical." He glanced at the clock on the wall as the technician searched his pockets for his pager.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

_Voi che sapete che cosa e amor,  
Donne, vedete, s'io l'ho nel cor,  
Donne, vedete, s'io l'ho nel cor_

Bill McCarthy, the gangly, red-haired junior research assistant at Symbios, had to admit that he was pleasantly surprised. Dr Bartkiewicz was, all in all, a pretty good boss – aside from generally treating her subordinate like a human being and having a great sense of humour, she was also a staunch supporter of "lab democracy". This not only meant that Bill's opinions and ideas were listened to very closely but also that they took turns picking the soundtrack for the lengthy research sessions, when music helped to liven up the afternoons spent elbow-deep in machinery. Having been subjected to Bill's "Best of the 70s" compilation which she bore without a single murmur of complaint during their last session, she chose a Mozart opera, _The Marriage of Figaro_, to accompany their work today. While Bill didn't really consider himself a fan of classical music and knew next to nothing about opera, he unexpectedly found the bright, vivacious, creamily-smooth arias to his liking. This one he thought was particularly lovely. He asked Dr Bartkiewicz what the beautiful female voice was singing about, and smiled at her answer that it was a young boy torn apart by the unfamiliar feeling of love. The way she said it sounded almost…wistful. Making sure she wasn't looking, he stole a glance at her, leaving his work for a few moments. His mum had tutted when he first told her he wanted to be an engineer – "_How will you ever find a girlfriend, Bill? It's all blokes, you know._" – but Dr Bartkiewicz certainly gave him reasons to be hopeful on that count. Of course, she was a great professional – that goes without saying. But she managed to combine her passion for machinery with elegance and femininity. She was wearing a nice ensemble under her labcoat today – navy pinstriped trousers and a soft, cream-coloured blouse – and her slightly wavy blonde hair was smoothed into a bun at the nape of her neck, with one stubborn tendril curling past her ear. Surely she couldn't be the only one like that. Surely he would find someone like her, one day.

Lulled by the gentle music and his pleasant daydream, Bill was startled when his thoughts were interrupted by the beeping noise of a pager. He saw Dr Bartkiewicz rifle through the pockets of her labcoat with a vexed expression – she didn't like to be distracted when concentrating on her work. She fished out the pager and read the message. Bill's mouth opened in surprise as the vision of elegance he had been admiring a few moments ago let out a stream of swear words that would make a Glaswegian docker nod in appreciation and sprinted out of the lab.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

_I knew it. I bloody KNEW it. I bloody knew this would happen. That Binns should be bloody SECTIONED!_

Anna ran through the corridors of the hospital, trying to calm her rage and panic and thanking her lucky stars that she had had the foresight to examine the technical drawings for every piece of equipment when she started the job. While she was intimately familiar with machinery much more sophisticated than that which Holby had at its disposal, fixing a technical problem in the middle of surgery while the patient was bleeding out on the operating table was not exactly her area of expertise. Well, tough. She would just have to do it, just have to focus, focus, focus.

Hurriedly putting on the regulation cap, scrubs and footwear, Anna flew into the theatre, her thoughts still desperately, catastrophically scattered.

_Right, it's a Lunder 530 model, I've dealt with those before._

_I'm out of milk, need to pick some up on the way home._

_Oh God, it's a young girl. It's a young girl on the operating table._

_Henrik is wearing scrubs. Scrubs and a mask. Why the hell do I find that so attractive?_

She rushed to the machine, nodding to the positively horrified-looking technician to pass her the toolkit. She heard Hanssen's tense voice behind her:

"As quick as you can, please, Dr Bartkiewicz. We are under considerable time pressure."

_Really, Henrik? REALLY? Because I was just about to switch the radio on and make myself a cup of tea!_

Finding the power tool, she quickly unscrewed the bolts and removed the front panel, exposing the machine's entrails, a mess of tangled wires. Suddenly, complete calm descended on her. All external distractions, all panic faded away as she was confronted by nothing more than a puzzle that she had to solve. As simple as that. This was her area of expertise, her domain, her passion. Locate the problem, work out a solution, deal with it.

She quickly checked the tubes leading into the machine. No blockages, the problem isn't a physical obstruction. This has to be an electrical failure. Her hands flew across the wires, switches and buttons, following the machine's established algorithm to systematically test the connections. _Come on, come on, one of you has to be faulty_. She was starting to become impatient when she noticed that an LED light failed to come on. She unplugged and re-plugged the wire. Nothing happened. _Ha!_ She followed the cable, her fingers feeling a strange unevenness on its surface. Gently pulling it out and shining a torch inside, she saw that the cover had worn off, exposing the metal, and that the cable had sunk down, coming into contact with a copper panel on the internal wall, melting into it. The machine must have shut itself down automatically to prevent further damage from the short circuit. Relief washed over her. It really was that simple – cut the cable, replace the damaged stretch of the wire, use a clamp made of insulated material fix it to the top bar to stop it from touching the panel.

Without tearing herself away from the machine, she stretched out her left hand in the direction of the technician.

"Pliers, copper wire, and a rubber clamp, please."

Feeling the required objects in her palm, she started fixing the problem when it occurred to her that the clamp he had given her was too large to fit through the small space between the bar and the top surface.

"I need something smaller."

"Er…that's the smallest one we've got."

_Jesus Christ, what is going on today?_

Her mind sped through the options, discarding one after another. Suddenly, something so simple occurred to her that she had to stifle a triumphant laugh. She reached into her bun and pulled out a wavy hairgrip, letting some soft strands of her hair tumble down from under the theatre cap onto her shoulder. Made of metal but with a plastic coating – that should do the trick. It fitted through the small opening perfectly, keeping the wire firmly in place. Now all she had to do was switch on the full power mode and hope that, miraculously, this was the only cause of the problem. She held her breath as she flicked the switch, feeling the stares of the entire room on her back.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

_Come on._

_COME ON._

Slowly, hesitantly, the low hum started. Anna jumped to her feet and turned her attention to the control board, typing in several commands to reset the operating programme. She could hear the mechanisms picking up speed and finally, _finally_, the monitors displayed a message to confirm that the machine was fully operational.

Slightly embarrassed by the round of applause from everyone whose hands were not busy handling vital organs and still in her cool and composed engineer mode, she turned towards Hanssen and Jac.

"This will be enough to see you through the surgery but Tim and I will have to come up with a longer-term solution once you're done." She glanced at the technician. "Page me when it's over."

Already focusing on the patient and too busy for eye contact, Hanssen replied in a clear, flat, emotionless voice: "Thank you, Dr Bartkiewicz. Please see me in my office at the end of your working day."

She heard his instructions to the nurses behind her as she went out of the operating theatre and headed towards the exit, via her office to pick up her bag. She couldn't remember the last time she had needed a cigarette so badly.

# # # # # # # # # # # #

Anna was about to light up when she spotted a familiar figure hovering by her side.

"You know, those things are bad for you." Michael's teasing tone faltered as he saw her expression and noticed that her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't use the lighter. Taking it from her hands to help her, he asked "Jesus, what happened?"

Throwing him a grateful glance, Anna took a long drag on the cigarette, her eyes closing in pleasure as the smoke filled her lungs. After a few seconds, she replied: "Well, remember I told you that Binns cancelled my inspections of Darwin's equipment?"

He nodded.

"The bypass machine broke down during surgery. I had to fix it with the patient lying on the operating table, slowly bleeding out."

"_What?_"

"As you can imagine, those aren't exactly the working conditions I'm used to. It was…it was bloody terrifying. Thankfully, I managed to find the problem reasonably quickly and fix it…with a hairgrip." She looked up at Michael, her face twisted by the conflicting desires to giggle and to break down in tears.

To her surprise, she found herself being pulled into a hug, Michael's strong arms wrapped around her figure. "You clever, brilliant girl. I'm buying you the biggest Margarita you've ever seen tonight. And I want to hear the story of how you saved someone's life with a hairgrip, you badass engineer."

Anna relaxed into the embrace, relishing the warmth and the words of appreciation she longed to hear without realising it. Out of nowhere, a thought flashed through her mind, and she imagined that it was Hanssen, and not Michael, holding her close and muttering praise into her hair. Trying to shake it off, she disentangled herself from the American.

"Thanks, I'll be ok. And the biggest Margarita I've ever seen sounds absolutely perfect." Something occurred to her. "Oh, and I might be a bit late – I'm meant to go and see Hanssen at the end of the working day. It was his patient – well, his and Jac's."

Michael looked rather suspicious. "Why? You've saved the day, didn't you? I sure as hell hope he asked to see you to tell you that himself."

While she desperately wanted to believe it, somehow Anna wasn't entirely convinced that that would be the case. "Yes, well…let's hope so. I'll see you later, okay?"

She threw the stub of her cigarette into the bin and went back inside, trying to decide what to do to kill time before the end of the surgery.

# # # # # # # # # #

She had spent the rest of her day repairing the heart-lung machine – thankfully, there were no serious problems but it had definitely been a distinctly stupid idea to delay the inspection. She had heard that the surgery went well but the technological failure and the panic that accompanied it could have been easily avoided. Despite herself, she kept being distracted by the mental image of Hanssen in his surgeon mode. It was something about the way his eyes became more expressive when his face was covered by a mask, and the calm and assured manner in which he handled someone's insides, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Just being in his presence when he did that made her feel…safe. It made her realise that even in the worst-case scenario, he would be there to deal with the crisis calmly and efficiently.

Just after 5 o'clock, Anna headed towards his office, trying to think of the most diplomatic way to tell him that his Business Manager was a moron who almost cost a patient her life. She knocked on the door and came in, hearing the invitation. Hanssen was standing at the window with his back to her. He turned around to face her and Anna saw that he had taken off his glasses – a rare sight. Most people appeared more vulnerable when they did that but Hanssen's lean face and dark hair made him look…almost feral. Lupine. This was particularly true now, as Anna noticed, to her surprise, that he was incredibly tense, visibly making every effort to control some strong emotion.

Neither of them said anything for a while. Wishing to break the oppressive silence, Anna offered:

"I hear the surgery went well."

"Yes, thank you, Dr Bartkiewicz. Remarkable, really, considering the fact that a faulty piece of equipment almost killed the patient." His tone was almost hostile, every word clipped and precise.

"My thoughts preci-"

"Would you care to explain what on _earth_ happened today?" Anna was taken aback by the forcefulness of the question and the coldness of his stare, boring into her.

"I'm sorry, are you implying that this was somehow _my _fault?" she asked incredulously. "I told you it was unwise to follow Mr Binns' advice! And, frankly, I think I deserve some credit for the way I dealt with the critical situation!"

He ignored her last point as he pressed on with his attack. "Rather distasteful to shift the blame onto Mr Binns, isn't it? If memory serves me, _you_ are the senior engineer in charge of the hospital equipment and _you_ should have drawn my attention to the extent of the risk that we were taking. I will not have the health and, indeed, the lives of my patients compromised in this manner", he spat out.

Anna's mouth opened slightly in shock at the unfairness of it all. How _dare_ he blame her for this? This was absolutely preposterous!

"I expect the full report on today's incident on my desk, first thing Monday morning, please." He moved to walk past her towards his chair, his tone clearly indicating that the discussion was over, as far as he was concerned, but Anna blocked his path. He was now so close to her that she had to look up to maintain eye contact.

"Henrik, this is absolutely ridiculous. This is not my fault, and I refuse to stay in the office on a Friday night to cover up someone else's mess!" In her anger, she didn't even notice how she slipped back into using his first name.

"Oh, I do apologise, Dr Bartkiewicz, am I spoiling your plans for tonight? I'm sure Mr Spence could spare you for a few hours." Anna was outraged at the venomous mockery in his voice. This was so startlingly out of character. _What the hell was going on_?

Abandoning all pretence that this would be a normal, civilized conversation, she let her voice get higher: "Excuse me? How _dare_ you! What I do or don't do with Mr Spence is my business, and my business alone." She was getting uncontrollably agitated. "Who the hell do you think you are? What gives you the right to-"

Anna never finished that sentence because Henrik Hanssen quickly took a step forward, cupped the back of her head and forcefully pressed his mouth to hers.

The universe screeched to a halt.

For a few moments, they stood perfectly still, each stunned and waiting for the other to pull back in disgust, in horror. Hesitantly breaking the kiss, Anna tilted her head up to look him in the eye, searching for an explanation, for a clue that he didn't instantly regret his move. The perpetually composed, distant, cold Director of Surgery was unrecognisable. Henrik's expression was incredibly intense, his dark eyes focused on her mouth, his own slightly open. It looked like he forgot how to breathe, waiting for her reaction. Slowly, her eyes dropped back to his lips and, abandoning all hesitation, all questions and all anxiety, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Within a few seconds, they both shook off the initial stupor and the kiss became intense, urgent, frantic. Henrik moved forward, pushing her further and further back until he was pressing her with his tall, lean body against the wall of his office. She could feel the warmth of his chest through his thin shirt and shivered at the sensation. His tongue sought entry to her mouth and Anna almost moaned at the delicious obscenity of his hot, slick muscle stroking and curling around her own, possessive, dominant and desperate.

His strong, elegant fingers sought out her wrists and he lifted her hands, pinning them to the wall above her head. He had her fully in his control and it seemed he was intent on making the most of the situation. Tearing himself away from her mouth, his breath jagged and his eyes glazed over, he dipped his head further down until his cheek was resting against her jawline, his hair tickling her skin and his mouth right next to a particularly sensitive spot below her ear. In a low, strained, almost breathless voice that sent vibrations through her entire body, right down to her pulsating core, he said:

"I want you. I…I have wanted you for so long…"

He tilted his head to press his slightly opened mouth to the warm, tender skin of her neck. Anna was distinctly grateful that he was pinning her to the wall as she felt her knees threaten to give way. A low, desperate moan escaped from her lips as she felt his hot, wet tongue caressing her skin, followed by his teeth that nipped gently at a spot just above her collarbone. Oh God, this was so wonderfully _unbearable_.

Henrik's hands released hers to drop to her hips, stroking and kneading, and Anna cursed her decision to wear trousers that day. Still, using the fact that her hands were now free, she buried her fingers in his soft, dark, curly hair and gently pulled his head to one side, to gain better access to his pale neck, sighing as his lips left her skin. His throat exposed to her, she started just above the collar of his crisp white shirt, flicking her tongue under the fabric and then sucking and kissing and licking her way up to his ear, hearing his breath hitch. She reached his earlobe and took the soft flesh into her warm mouth before lightly biting into it and tugging sharply.

A low, savage growl came from somewhere deep inside Hanssen's throat. He freed himself from her grasp and forcefully, almost painfully ground into her, his mouth attacking hers, the desire and desperation uncontrollable. She had to grasp his shoulders for support. His hands darted feverishly across her body, finally settling on her waist, pulling up her blouse. Anna gasped loudly into his ear as she felt his cool hands stroking her stomach, clever fingers massaging the sensitive areas, moving higher, and higher, and-

Her frantic, lust-filled mind didn't even register the sound at first. She only became aware of it when she felt Henrik freeze and then, slowly and devastatingly, move away from her. With the speed and coordination of a shell shock victim, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his pager, trying to overcome the hindrance of his dilated pupils and his lack of glasses to read the message. He gave up and showed it to Anna who, while normally having no reasons to complain about her vision, was similarly struggling to focus. Eventually, she managed to decipher it, the crushing disappointment palpable in her voice: "You're needed on Keller."

Still breathing heavily, he straightened up, breaking the physical contact completely. His face showed utter confusion at this unwelcome intrusion of the real world into their few precious minutes of intimacy. It was really remarkable to see the usually immaculately composed Swede so flustered. His voice unstable, he muttered "I do apologise, I think I'd better go now."

Anna, thankfully, had managed to pull together enough shreds of common sense to stop him, her hand on his arm.

"Henrik, wait."

He slowly turned around to look at her, the question in his eyes. "You can't go out of this office looking like that."

Indeed, it would have been, mildly speaking, careless. His face was flushed, his hair was ruffled and his tie was askew – not to mention his eyes which still hadn't shaken off the expression much more appropriate for the bedroom than for a hospital ward. Quickly tucking her blouse back into her trousers, Anna stepped towards him to straighten his tie and smooth his hair, her hands involuntarily coming to rest on his temples. Standing on her tiptoes to press a brief, final kiss to his lips, Anna became acutely aware of yet another complication regarding Mr Hanssen's appearance.

"Ah, Henrik…" This really shouldn't have made her that embarrassed. _You're not a teenager, for God's sake_. "You might…you might want to give it a few minutes." Desperately hoping she wasn't blushing, she did a quick check to make sure that her own appearance would not arouse suspicion and hurried out of the office, for his sake as well as her own, chasing away the vivid mental image of Henrik Hanssen attempting to diagnose a patient with a sizeable, unmistakable bulge in his trousers.

* * *

**Well, ladies and gents, consider this chapter my smut klaxon! **

**Don't forget to leave a review! x**


	7. Chapter 7

**As a good friend of mine is fond of saying, I'll just leave this here for you...**

* * *

Anna was holding in her hand the freshly printed-out report that had taken her the best part of the weekend to complete. She briefly knocked on the door of Hanssen's office and walked in. Still reeling from the unfairness of the way the Director of Surgery had apportioned blame for the incident on Friday, she was hoping to get this particular humiliation over with quickly.

She found the Swede reclining in his chair, head tilted back, his long legs crossed and his hands resting in his lap, fingers interlocking. It almost looked like he had been waiting for her to make an appearance. He raised a vexed eyebrow as he caught sight of Anna.

"Ah, Dr Bartkiewicz. Delighted to see you have finally found the time to drop by," he drawled.

"I'm…sorry?"

"The report, Dr Bartkiewicz. Did I not expressly request to have it on my desk first thing on Monday morning?"

"Oh."

"Now, let's see." He slid his hand across his forearm, dragging back the sleeve of the light grey suit to consult his watch. "It is currently approaching four o'clock in the afternoon, hardly "first thing in the morning", I think you'll agree. So, what possible explanation can you offer?" Each word rolled off his tongue clear and immaculately enunciated, the clockwork precision of his articulation serving to contrast with her own sloppiness.

_Oh God. _How on earth had this slipped her mind? Now that he mentioned it, she distinctly remembered him specifying the time during their meeting on Friday, and yet she had somehow become distracted by other tasks that morning. How painfully unprofessional.

"My apologies, Mr Hanssen, I… I seem to have forgotten." She placed the folder on the edge of his desk with a poor imitation of nonchalance.

"_Forgotten_?" Failing to mask his incredulity and annoyance, Hanssen stood up. He was silent for a few moments, composing his thoughts. "Dr Bartkiewicz, I can assure you I have a very busy schedule with a number of matters calling for my attention. However –"He strode over to the door and closed it with a soft click. "I expect punctuality and discipline from all of my staff and believe they are essential for the efficient running of a hospital." He walked around to stand behind her, with Anna still frozen to the spot from sheer embarrassment. "Now, since a delay of seven hours is clearly inexcusable, it appears I have no choice but to instil those vital principles into you myself."

Anna shivered involuntarily as his last sentence was delivered in a low, almost purring voice in close proximity to her neck, so close she could feel his warm breath on her skin. "Let us start with discipline, shall we?" She heard him straighten up behind her. "I would like you to bend over my desk, please, feet a shoulder-width apart, your forearms resting on the surface." He delivered the instructions briskly and succinctly.

Anna couldn't help but be astonished at this turn of events. She half-turned around to pose the question. "I'm sorry but what exactly-"

"I believe my instructions were quite clear, Dr Bartkiewicz. Do you wish me to add insubordination to the list of your shortcomings?" There was a steel edge to the drawl now and, after a quick mental calculation of the pros and cons, Anna decided that it was best to go along with this puzzling development. Besides, something deep inside her, a shameful lone voice in the back of her mind she was trying desperately to ignore, was suggesting that she might find this rather to her liking.

"No."

She felt him leaning down again, until his lips were almost touching her ear.

""No" _what_?" he whispered, dangerously, excruciatingly close. Despite herself, Anna felt the first unmistakeable jolt of arousal.

"No, Mr Hanssen." She slowly bent down until her elbows were resting on his desk, careful to follow his orders as precisely as she could. She was rewarded with a curt "Better". Still unable to observe his movements directly, Anna could nonetheless hear his measured steps behind her as he outlined the rules in his habitually calm manner.

"Now, Dr Bartkiewicz. In order for you to develop a better appreciation of discipline, I would like you to remain perfectly still and perfectly quiet, no matter what my actions may be. If you fail to do so, without my express permission, I shall be _severely_ disappointed. Do I make myself clear?"

Anna was so focused on processing what had to be the most delicious threat she had ever heard that she almost missed her cue.

"Yes, Mr Hanssen."

"Excellent," he uttered quietly.

For a short while, nothing happened – Anna could discern no noise, no movement behind her and she was growing tense with anticipation. She almost jumped with surprise when she felt the light, barely-there touch of Hanssen's hand at the nape of her neck, just below the hairline. His warm fingers moved in small, gentle circles, down to the top vertebrae, briefly sliding underneath the collar of her shirt, the sensation both ticklish and exciting. He continued by placing a single finger between her shoulder blades and slowly gliding it down her spine, making Anna shiver with pleasure as he replaced the fingertip with the edge of his nail. Feeling her physical reaction, he immediately lifted his hand, depriving her of his touch.

"Careful, Dr Bartkiewicz. We wouldn't want this to be over before it has truly begun, would we?" His voice was low and silkily-soft and faintly playful. Anna's eyes fluttered shut in a desperate effort to focus on controlling herself.

She could hear him shifting his weight behind her, trying to guess what he would do next. Rather unexpectedly, she felt his agonisingly light touch on the bare, smooth skin of her calves – _who would have thought that part of her body was so sensitive? _His fingers moved higher, leisurely stroking along the side of her knee, constantly changing the pressure and the direction. All of Anna's thoughts, energies and emotions were concentrated on this maddening sensation, the merciless teasing making lust swell inside her.

"Now, Anna." She fought back a groan of frustration as his fingers left her skin again. "I want you to spread your legs wider."

_Oh sweet Jesus_. Her mind raced through the implications of this command, her knees almost giving way as one vivid image after another rapidly presented themselves to her. She hastened to comply with his request, hoping that she managed to hide the slight shaking in her limbs. Once again, he made her wait, her breathing becoming more frequent and more shallow by the minute. Suddenly, she felt two gloriously warm and large and firm hands on her hips, and before she had time to prepare herself, he pulled her skirt up by a few inches and his lips connected with the delicate skin of her inner thigh, just above her knee.

Anna clenched her fists as her mouth hung open in a silent gasp, still maintaining her position, her willpower too strong to let her give in to him, to moan, to writhe, to show the effect he was having on her. This was becoming increasingly difficult as he opened his mouth to let his warm tongue wander across her skin, licking up, and up, until she felt his hair brush the inside of her other leg. Just when she thought she got her breathing under control, he sank his teeth into her thigh, sucking harshly on the tender flesh. This was too much to bear, and Anna's legs shuddered, threatening to buckle as she muttered desperately under her breath, "_youbastardyoubastardyoubasta rdyoubastard_".

She was almost relieved to get a break from this torture as she heard Hanssen straightening up beside her. "Now, I would hardly call that _perfectly_ still, nor indeed perfectly quiet, but I suppose that under the circumstances your performance was satisfactory." Through the haze of her arousal, Anna noticed that his voice had changed – whereas before it had been an effortlessly calm drawl, now his words were more abrupt, as if he was having difficulty breathing. "I think we ought to try one more test before we proceed to the next part."

_The next part? This man is going to make me have a heart attack!_

That last conjecture became a lot more likely to come true as, without the faintest hint of a warning, Hanssen pressed himself against the curve of her behind and Anna was presented with the incontrovertible proof that he hadn't been unaffected by the proceedings. _Oh God, he was so hard, so incredibly hard_. His hands reached under her to pull up her shirt and Anna had to bite down on her lip, viciously, to stop herself from moaning as his fingers swiftly dealt with the buttons and then stroked her stomach, moving higher and higher until they reached the strap of her bra. Unfastening the clasp, her let the undergarment sink down, pausing to allow Anna to feel the cool air of his office on her naked breasts. She couldn't think anymore. Couldn't do anything. Could barely stay standing up. The arousal was so overwhelming, so overpowering that she didn't even have the strength to resist him anymore, prepared to cry, to scream – anything to make him touch her.

She heard his voice again, increasingly strained. "From this point onwards, do feel free to vocalise your reactions if you feel it would help you." While her sluggish mind was taking its time to register the message, Hanssen placed his palms flat on her skin and moved them up, gently massaging her breasts. She felt his thumbs and forefingers separate from her body and then, a few seconds later, encircle her nipples and lightly pinch them. Finally allowing herself an outlet for her uncontrollable lust, Anna moaned. She moaned and moaned and moaned, getting louder and no longer able to stop herself. The hard nubs still captured between his fingers, he started to twist and pull sharply and, finally, caught them between his short fingernails and pressed down.

Anna screamed.

All she wanted, all she could think about was release. He needed, he _had to_ make her come. She couldn't bear this any longer.

She felt his hands slide out from underneath her shirt. Slowly, he sank his warm body onto her back, so that she could feel his ragged breath as his ribcage moved up and down. Placing his hands next to hers and dipping his head so that his mouth was next to her ear, barely able to speak in complete sentences, he growled: "I think… we can conclude… the discipline part of the… exercise. Let us move on… to punctuality." He lifted himself up slightly, fiddling with something above her head, and then lowered himself back down. Anna saw that he had taken off his watch and placed it on the desk, in front of her face.

Returning to her ear, he continued: "The time now is 16.26. You will climax at 16.40, not before and not after, is that understood?"

Anna had no breath left in her to reply – she could only feel his hands returning to her hips, dipping under her skirt, his fingers dragging down her knickers and-

As the alarm went off, Anna sat bolt upright in her bed, arms flailing, not conscious enough to stop her left hand from coming into contact with a foreign object that flew off into the distance and landed with a crash. Breathing heavily and all her nerves on edge it took a while until her mind was successful in piecing together information on where she was, what was going on and what that annoying bloody sound was. She soon established that she was in her own bed, that she had just woken up from an utterly filthy dream about Henrik Hanssen and that that annoying sound was in fact her radio alarm, with the idiotically cheerful voices of the breakfast DJs heralding the arrival of Monday morning.

Vaguely remembering that something was not quite right, Anna looked down from her bed and groaned at the discovery. In her lust-crazed flailing, she had managed to knock off _yet_ another tea cup from her bedside table, making it bounce off the same metal-covered corner of her chest of drawers with almost uncanny precision before finally landing on the floor, a sizeable crack down its side. She had been so thrilled to find this lovely set of china tea cups at a flea market in Strasbourg a few years ago – they were so elegant and sophisticated and lovely. And now, in the course of three consecutive mornings, she had managed to destroy half of the set, adding a fine spray of stale tea to her carpet into the bargain.

Swinging her pyjama-clad legs over the side of the bed with all the enthusiasm a Monday morning and a night of sexual frustration warranted, Anna trudged off to the kitchen to fetch the spray bottle of carpet cleaner. It was becoming increasingly apparent that she would either have to move her bedside table beyond an arm's reach, or sleep with Henrik and get this over with. And frankly, Anna Bartkiewicz liked her furniture where it damn well was.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

The events of last Friday notwithstanding, Anna knew Hanssen better than to simply assume that the report on the incident with the heart-lung machine was no longer required. Contrary to her dream persona, she made sure it was printed out by 9am sharp and decided to quickly check her emails before walking over to his office, more than a little bit worried about how she would keep herself together after what happened on Friday and the dreams that followed. She found a message from Hanssen in her inbox:

_Anna,_

_I would appreciate it if you could come by my office on Monday, at your convenience._

_H.H._

She wasn't sure she liked what she had read but, anxious, confused and tired after three nights of fitful sleep, Anna reached the conclusion that overanalysing was going to get her nowhere and that she would just have to go over and sort this out in person. Whatever "sorting it out" involved.

Standing outside his door a few minutes later, she hesitated and tried to compose herself before knocking. When she came in and saw him sitting behind his desk, all scattered thoughts and emotions that had plagued her the past few days lined up in perfect harmony and rushed at her with the speed and force of a charging elephant. She wanted him. She wanted to run up to him and throw her arms around his neck and hold him close to her. She wanted to cook him nice breakfasts and go for long walks and spend Sunday mornings in bed with him. She wanted him in her bed. She wanted to spend a few days and a few nights working out exactly what it took to make him moan with pleasure. And then spend as long as physically and indeed mentally possible doing just that. She wanted to see him smile at her with admiration and affection. She wanted to make him laugh. She wanted to spend evenings talking to him over a bottle of wine, losing the track of time. She wanted to prove to him that Bach was a phenomenal composer. She wanted him to want her. She wanted him to want her so much that he wouldn't be able to control himself, like last time. She wanted him to kiss her now. Now, right now.

"Good morning, Dr Bartkiewicz, thank you for coming to see me. Please, take a seat", he extended his hand to one of the visitors' chairs at his desk in invitation.

_Oh fuck._

The carefully arranged neutral smile frozen on her face, Anna greeted him and sat down. He, too, looked tired, his eyes dull and slightly red around the edges behind his glasses. He had his stethoscope around his neck, clearly having specifically made time for this conversation before starting his ward rounds. Desperately trying to think of something to do, she placed her report on his desk, failing to block the memory of the consequences of this particular action in her most recent dream.

"I have just…I have just come over to give you my report on the failure of the Lunder 530 heart-lung machine."

To Anna's astonishment, Hanssen looked genuinely embarrassed.

"Oh, ah…Many thanks, Dr Bartkiewicz, I do appreciate your efforts but that really wasn't necessary."

_Wasn't necessary? I had spent my precious weekend writing it, in the rare breaks I got between fantasising about you, and your hands, and your lips, you utter… _

Suppressing all thoughts of what she wanted to do with, to, on and underneath Hanssen, and for want of a better focus for her emotions, Anna concentrated on her annoyance, raising a quizzical and distinctly unamused eyebrow.

"I must offer you my most sincere apologies." The calmness of his tone was devastating. "It was most unfair of me to accuse you of negligence the last time we met. In fact, it was inexcusable. Your work has always been exemplary and, on that particular occasion, your expertise was indispensable – you had dealt with the critical situation with remarkable efficiency and creativity. Your previous comments concerning the schedule of the equipment inspections have been taken on board and you will be consulted on all decisions concerning hospital technology in the future."

It was really rather amazing how an apology and praise of her work from her boss could make Anna feel quite as tense as it did.

"However, I believe there is a rather obvious explanation for my shameful error of judgement."

He paused. Anna thought he would be able hear the violent pounding of her pulse across the room.

"The last time you were in this office, I had shown a deplorable lack of self-restraint. I'm sure you are aware of the extent to which I value professionalism, logical thinking and complete focus on our work. And it is all too apparent how my...sentiments…" – he uttered the word with distaste, as though it were an obscenity – "…how my sentiments had forced me to abandon all three, leading me to be most unjust to one of the hospital's…of my most valued colleagues. I would therefore like us to return to the considerably more appropriate, strictly professional relationship, to ask you to forget the incident in question had ever occurred and to accept my apologies."

Anna had always found the word "heartbreak" rather peculiar. "Break" implied something brittle, something fragile, hardly appropriate for the slick, powerful muscle that worked tirelessly for decades to sustain life in the human body. However, on this occasion, she thought she could feel not only her heart, but her whole being become dry, thin, bloodless, agonisingly transparent, so that the slightest movement would cause parts of her to break off, like dead leaves falling from a withered tree, until she crumbled into a heap of shards on the floor.

But there was no reason for him to know that.

Clearing her throat, and focusing all her strength on keeping her voice even, she replied. "I see. Quite understandable, Mr Hanssen. Your apology is accepted. Although I think you will find the report informative and useful, whether or not you had considered it necessary. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have rather a lot of tasks to get on with this morning."

She stood up, willing herself to keep her back straight and her head high, absent-mindedly noting that Hanssen's face bore a surprisingly miserable expression. On her way to the door, thankfully, her sluggish brain cells started picking up speed. Something was not right about this. Something didn't quite stack up. Her hand already on the doorknob, she froze, the pieces of the puzzle finally fitting together. She turned around, life slowly returning to her face.

"You. Boring. Old. Swede."

Well, however this was going to turn out, Hanssen's expression was priceless.

"You aren't ending this because you were unfair to me. You solved that particular problem within the first 5 seconds by "offering me your most sincere apologies". You didn't even stop to ask me whether I cared! You want me. I know you do – you bloody well told me! Besides, you presented me with some pretty solid proof to that effect." She moved forward, pressing on with her attack, a sly smile spreading on her face as Hanssen's eyebrows crawled upwards at the innuendo.

"All of which leads me to the obvious conclusion." She placed his hands on his desk and leaned over to deliver her verdict.

"You're scared, aren't you?"

Looking like he desperately tried to maintain control of the situation, Hanssen leaned back in his chair, his face immobile. Unfortunately for him, his eyes betrayed the fierce internal struggle between fear, despair and longing.

"Don't tell me you're obtuse enough to be scared that I don't feel the same way. For God's sake, Henrik! You had me moaning in your ear on Friday, my knees were buckling, I was lucky you were holding me up! I…I…" – in her agitation and incredulity, Anna was running out of ways to explain this to the idiot man – "I'm running out of bloody tea cups!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Tea cups, Henrik! I keep breaking them when- _never you mind!_" She paused, trying to compose herself. Hanssen being who he was, she would have to take him through this step by logical step.

"So. We have thus, hopefully, established that we are both interested in each other, to put it mildly. What else could be the problem? Are you scared that people would talk? That this would become public knowledge? You think I can't be discrete?"

"Of course not, but-" Hanssen denied the accusation in a tone that confirmed Anna's guess wasn't far off.

"Henrik, listen to me. We met at Charing Cross Hospital, when I was a trainee, didn't we? Do you remember my supervisor, by any chance, Dr Silverstein?"

"Yes, but what-"

"I had an affair with him. For almost a year. Not one person knew about this." _Not even his wife_, Anna swallowed.

Despite himself, Hanssen's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Not to mention the fact that I would hardly _want_ anyone to know about our relationship – being romantically linked with Horrid Henrik, the vampire bat of Holby General, wouldn't exactly help my social life", she quipped drily, enjoying Hanssen's involuntary look of protest.

"So, keeping all of the above in mind, please do explain what on earth is stopping you from having your way with me on your desk, right now?"

For a while, they were both silent, relishing the mental images.

Finally, Hanssen recovered from his stupor. "You know, you really are irritatingly perceptive. I suppose I was, ah, afraid you wouldn't return my…feelings." Anna smirked as he stumbled over the dreaded word yet again. "And you are right – I am an intensely private person, as well you are aware. And I would dread the thought of colleagues interfering in our…of colleagues interfering. But you have been most convincing, on both counts." He allowed himself the first, timid smile, before he turned serious again. "But the fact of the matter is… the problem is that…"

"Spit it out, Henrik."

"I happen to have very strong views on infidelity and…Mr Spence…" he faltered, misery returning to his eyes.

Anna had to try very, very hard to stop herself from rushing over and banging his head on the desk.

"Now, you listen to me. Mr Spence and I are good friends. I admit, we do indulge in some flirtation that may be somewhat misleading…" Anna paused as she realised just how misleading it could be. She had almost purposefully turned it up in Hanssen's presence! Oh poor, poor Henrik. "But there is absolutely nothing going on between us."

"There isn't?..." The look of shy hope on his face was heartrending.

"No, there really, really isn't." She smiled softly. "Besides, he's not even my type."

She could almost see his usual confidence returning to him, his eyes acquiring a flirtatious expression. "And, if I may ask, who _is_ your type?"

"You are, you stupid man."

He stood up, a slow, timid smile spreading across his face, (how rare and how wonderful to see him smile!) and walked around his desk towards her, clearly intending to gather her up in his arms and kiss her, when a distinctly mischievous thought occurred to her. She was still smarting from the way he had spoken to her when she first came in, the way he almost ruined this for them. The man had to be taught a lesson.

"Not so fast." She stopped him gently, her hand on his chest. "Seeing as you are such a fan of self-restraint, I think it's only fair if _I_ decide when we, ah, take this further. I'll have a think about the most appropriate time and place to do so, and you can practise your self-control in the meantime." Her smile turned positively evil.

"Dr Bartkiewicz, I am not accustomed to being made to wait." Anna almost shivered at the luxurious, velvety softness of his voice as his eyes dipped to her lips and his hands crept up to her waist. But determined to stick to her plan of action, she held on to the ends of the stethoscope that had been wrapped around his neck and pulled, bringing his head down to her level. She leant forward until her lips were close to his ear and in the most seductive voice she could muster up she purred:

"Tough cookies."

* * *

**ASSORTED MUSINGS:**

**1) Well, I think I gave everyone a fair warning with the rating, didn't I? Hope no one is too traumatised...**

**2) I have pretty much waved a fond goodbye to the hope of doing anything productive this Christmas break. **

**3) It's surprisingly hard to come up with a suitable word for "bum" for things like this. "Bum" itself is a bit too friendly; arse - too vulgar; bottom - too childish; buttocks - too clinical; derriere - too pretentious. Thoughts? Opinions?**

**DG xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey folks,**

**Sorry about the radio silence, I'm in the land of no internet at the moment (visiting elderly relatives), and I've just managed to escape to the nearest internet cafe, hurrah!**

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the lovely reviews - they make my day every time!**

**I'm afraid I wasn't really clear with my "bum" comment at the end of the previous chapter - my problem wasn't that I couldn't find a synonym, it was that I couldn't find a _stylistically suitable _synonym. The flavour, if you will, of the word "bum" clashed with what I was describing and the language I was otherwise using, at least to my ear. I'll admit, I am overthinking it, but such is my perfectionist nature :) Thanks for all your suggestions, anyway!**

**Enough waffle, on with the chapter! x **

* * *

Anna realised very quickly that while making Henrik wait had given her considerable momentary satisfaction, she really hadn't thought through the long-term implications of that particular strategy. For instance, she more or less had to wave goodbye to any chances of concentrating on her work – a fact which could have been easily hidden had her duties amounted to dealing with paperwork in the privacy of her own office. However, when research assistant Bill had to rush over and grab her elbow to stop her from soldering the wrong panel to their test model, thus almost destroying the past few days' work, she had to reluctantly admit that spending hours fantasising about the various uses to which she could put Hanssen's tie had its disadvantages. Another downside was being forced to put her regular coffees with Michael on hold for the time being – it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain the usual light, carefree, playful tone of their conversations while being so preoccupied with other thoughts. As it happened, he seemed to be more busy than usual with some work-related concerns – a personality clash with another GS surgeon, as far as she could gather through the mist of her daydream the last time they spoke – a circumstance for which she was guiltily grateful.

Anna did spend a considerable amount of time thinking about how Hanssen would behave in bed – whether he would be confident, what he would like, what his kinks may be. She knew absolutely nothing about his romantic history – throughout the many years of their acquaintance, he never mentioned a wife, or a partner, or anyone at all. Given the nature of their relationship, until the recent events, the very thought of Hanssen revealing anything about himself or even discussing such matters would have been ridiculous. At the very least, she knew that his buttoned-up, immaculately controlled, distant work persona was somewhat misleading – on that memorable occasion when he had let his guard slip, he showed he could be passionate and impulsive. In fact, it was this stark contrast which Anna found to be one of the major sources of excitement – the notion that she could make such an outwardly aloof and inscrutable man relinquish his self-control, follow his more basic instincts.

In any case, Anna got the impression that he wasn't exactly a blushing virgin – when it came to it, he was not hesitant to act to get what he wanted (she shivered at the memory of him pinning her against the wall of his office) and he had a good idea of what to do to give her pleasure (oh God, his voice at her neck…). Perhaps there were only two other points to add to her diagnosis so far: as was the case in normal life, he seemed to enjoy being dominating as well as the idea of Anna challenging him and, given his complete and utterly endearing disorientation in the immediate aftermath of their encounter, he probably hasn't enjoyed anything of the kind for a while. The only cloud on Anna's horizon was the fear that he would hesitate at the last moment, that he wouldn't dare to let himself go, that he would once again retreat into the dull, quiet, isolated comfort of his shell.

She had been clear from the start about where and how she wanted to seduce him – the main logistical problem was the timing. And until the perfect opportunity presented itself, she could use the time at her disposal to deal with this fear of hers in the only way she could think of – by making him want her so much that it wouldn't even cross his mind to falter at the critical moment.

Thus began the carefully calculated, deliciously cruel military campaign of teasing the poor Swede to within an inch of his life. This was all the more fun since Anna had to put her chess strategist brain to use to ensure that they followed two simple rules: firstly, her actions had to be subtle enough so that no one else would notice anything untoward, and secondly, they couldn't be left alone in a room. There was a limit to Anna's self-restraint, after all.

She started innocently enough, by wearing tops with a more open neckline, instead of her usual work shirts – still perfectly acceptable for the office but, combined with her usual up-do, providing a generous view of her slender, elegant neck to anyone who would be interested enough to look. When talking to Hanssen in the middle of Darwin (and fighting off the fierce butterflies in her stomach at the mere sight of him), she cast a quick glance around to ascertain that no one was looking straight at them and gently ran her fingers along the length of her neck while blithely carrying on with the conversation, as if massaging some sore muscles. To her immense gratification, she saw the cool, composed Director of Surgery slowly drop his eyes to follow every movement of her hand, his expression becoming slightly more tense and his fingers gripping the clipboard more tightly, before muttering an apology and briskly marching off.

The next step became dropping mildly suggestive phrases into the conversation with other colleagues within Hanssen's earshot. This was particularly enjoyable since it gave Anna the chance to stretch her innuendo muscles, resulting in a veritable barrage of complaints about being chained to her desk all evening and discussions about the optimal amount of lubricant for fitting the rigid shaft into the tight hole inside a certain heart monitor model ("you really have to make sure the shaft is slick enough, so that it can slide in comfortably, without putting too much pressure on the rim"). In fairness, in case of the engineering innuendo she did run the risk of making him more entertained than aroused. Nonetheless, she almost went a step too far when her noises of appreciation for the chocolate cupcake offered by the lovely, bubbly nurse from Keller became too close to orgasmic for everyone's comfort, prompting a look of mild confusion from the nurse and a distinctly dark, unamused glance from Hanssen. Slightly embarrassed, Anna rescued the situation by mocking her own weakness for chocolate, smiling her thanks and swiftly making an exit.

But this game she had decided to play became truly interesting when she progressed to the medium of emails, aiming to wreak havoc on Henrik's nervous system – a move which had some unintended consequences when, unexpectedly and marvellously, Henrik Hanssen started to fight back.

"_Dear Mr Hanssen,_

_Following your request, please find attached the data on Holby's cardio-thoracic diagnostic equipment in use for the past five years. I hope you will find the information you require for your presentation to the Board and please do not hesitate to inform me if I could be of any further assistance to you._

_Concerning the presentation itself – I would like to advise you, if I may, to refrain from wearing the waistcoat you have on today to the board meeting in question, or at least to keep your suit jacket on at all times. Otherwise, the beneficial effect of the garment on the appearance of your figure, and indeed the sterner look it affords you, may result in the female members of the board suffering from the same problems I did – a total inability to concentrate on the task at hand and a lack of dry underwear._

_Regards,_

_A.B."_

"_Dear Dr Bartkiewicz,_

_Many thanks for the attached document, I am certain it will be most informative._

_Concerning your other comment, I find that the best course of action when faced with multiple demands on one's mind is to deal with them sequentially rather than simultaneously. I trust that your ability to concentrate on your work will be much improved when you solve the problem that is causing the state of your attire to deteriorate. Might I suggest putting your frankly puzzling enthusiasm for my wardrobe to good use? A few minutes of concentrated thought should be sufficient to help you complete the task. _

_Regards,_

_H.H."_

"_Dear Mr Hanssen,_

_Many thanks for your advice. However, I find the presence of a second party usually helps to deal with such problems both more efficiently and more conclusively. It is therefore rather lamentable that I am unable to ask for your assistance (yet) – 12 o'clock in the afternoon is hardly the most appropriate time for such pursuits – however, I hope to be able to do so in the near future. In the meantime, I shall follow your suggestion and hope that I return to my usual levels of productivity in due course._

_Regards,_

_A.B."_

"_Dear Dr Bartkiewicz,_

_I am due in theatre in ten minutes, so I shall keep this brief._

_While I have a certain amount of compassion for the predicament in which you find yourself, may I remind you that it is entirely your own doing? _

_Moreover, I do not appreciate being distracted from a considerably heavy workload by personal concerns. Together with your evident failure to focus on your direct responsibilities, this amounts to extremely unprofessional behaviour and rather poor discipline. I am beginning to wonder whether an appropriate response would be the punishment usually reserved for young children – bending the miscreant over one's knee and administering a few firm smacks to the gluteus maximus._

_Regards,_

_H.H." _

Having finished reading his last email, Anna hastily closed the Outlook window and sat back in her chair, taking a few deep breaths. _Well, you walked right into that one, didn't you…_ As it was approaching lunchtime, she thought she could probably get away with having her break a touch early and going for a nice, refreshing, sexual-frustration-relieving walk. While the skies were dull and grey, it was still a relatively warm September afternoon, and Anna decided to leave her trench coat in her office, to enhance the refreshment factor.

While this whole situation was becoming more and more maddening by the hour, Anna couldn't help but feel pleased – she had definitely managed to elicit an unambiguous response from Hanssen, providing further evidence that her plan was, in fact, working. In any case, she could hardly turn up to his office in the middle of the day and pounce on him, as much as she might want to do just that – after all, there were patients to consider, as well as the general difficulty of being discrete and remaining uninterrupted in the middle of the working day. She would just have to follow her Plan A, wait for the appropriate time, and hope that neither she nor Hanssen would lose their marbles in the process.

Lost in her thoughts, Anna didn't notice that she had walked far enough to reach the motorway and that it had started to drizzle in a depressingly persistent way. She wrapped her rather thin cardigan tighter around her figure and turned back, aiming to give herself time to grab some form of sustenance from the supermarket on her way to the office. With grim inevitability, the drizzle turned into a monsoon in a matter of minutes. Anna trudged on, with cold drops dribbling through the gap between the collar and her neck straight down her back, cursing to high heaven the lack of reliable public transport in the area and her poor memory of British weather and its tendency to change in the blink of an eye. Within ten minutes, she was more or less drenched, letting her cardigan hang open in defeat, and groaned when she realised that the useless thing didn't stop her thin white blouse from being soaked through to the point of near transparency, clinging to her body. As Anna approached the shop, she once again covered up her increasingly scandalous-looking front with her cardigan, in no mood for getting stared at by the pimply youths at the check-out, when her soggy misery was relieved by an astonishingly simple thought.

Having picked up her sandwich, Anna marched cheerfully back to the hospital through the unrelenting downpour, heading through the main entrance with the fully legitimate excuse of asking one of the nurses if she could borrow a pair of scrubs while her clothes dried. It was clearly a lucky day for troublemakers since she didn't need to go far to reach her ultimate goal – right on cue the lift doors opened and Henrik Hanssen stepped out, serene as ever, expecting nothing to disturb his composure.

And then he saw her.

Anna saw his languid stride shudder to a halt as if he had walked into an invisible brick wall. While his features remained as steely immobile as ever (she had to give it to the man, his restraint really was remarkable), the expression in his eyes quickly switched from shock to amazement to fury. Fighting to keep the triumph from her face, Anna attempted to calmly walk past him, now that she has achieved the desired effect, when she was stopped in her tracks by his quiet remark, uttered through gritted teeth:

"I didn't realise the problems with your attire were quite as extensive as that, Dr Bartkiewicz."

Anna frowned in confusion until she recalled the details of the email exchange he was referring to. Her eyes widened in unexpected embarrassment.

"Ah…I…I went for a walk and forgot my umbrella…"

"Evidently. Please do make sure you find some replacement clothes to wear – I'm sure you are aware that parading around a hospital looking the way you currently do is highly… inappropriate." He stormed off into the rain, opening his umbrella with some violence, leaving Anna wondering whom the point could be awarded to for this round.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

The tediously lengthy meeting between Symbios and one of their major clients was mercifully drawing to a close. There were no serious problems to be addressed, just the minutiae of the renewed contract to go over, so once Anna had made her key points and apologised for the thousandth time in two hours for turning up wearing surgical scrubs, she could more or less switch off and try not to fall asleep. The meeting finally adjourned, she shook the visitors' hands, exchanged the habitual pleasantries and headed towards the lifts on the other side of the building, desperate for a coffee to drag herself out of the comatose state.

As it happened, caffeine proved to be surplus to requirement as the lift doors opened a few floors above ground level and the Director of Surgery walked in, his eyes acquiring an unexpectedly feral look as he assessed the situation in front of him. Anna suddenly realised that there was absolutely no one else in the lift and that she and Henrik Hanssen were about to spend a few minutes in a confined space entirely on their own. Offering him as neutral a greeting as she could manage and resolutely looking straight ahead, she almost jumped when she heard his warm, drawling voice:

"Your behaviour today has been shocking, Dr Bartkiewicz, verging on unacceptable."

_Oh dddd….damn you, Henrik._

"Distracting me from my work, undermining my ability to treat patients, walking around in a practically transparent shirt…it's like you _want_ to be chastised..."

Anna took a deep breath to steady herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him leaning in, until she could feel his breath on her ear.

"Do you?"

She was infinitely grateful that they reached the ground floor immediately after his last remark, giving her a chance to stride out of the lift, trying to disguise her agitation as the impatience of an extremely busy consultant to get a hot drink in the 45 seconds she allows herself away from work. She could hear Henrik following her and didn't need to turn around to know that he was looking as pleased with himself as his composure and sense of propriety would allow. He really was getting most inconveniently good at this.

"Double espresso, please"

"A filter coffee, please."

They stood next to each other, trying to find something to say that would pass for neutral conversation.

"I see you have managed to acquire a pair of scrubs."

"Yes. Ah. Nurse Lane was very helpful." Making sure no one else was paying attention, Anna casually leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter, and lowered her voice. "Of course, it was either that or wearing a lab coat over my naked body."

Pretending to be fascinated by a bowl of sugar sachets, Anna smirked as she heard Hanssen clear his throat in a way that betrayed his distress at being offered that particular mental image in the middle of the hospital café.

"Here you go," came the beaming interruption from the chirpy girl behind the counter.

What happened next made it inescapably apparent that this waiting game has really gone too far. They both reached for their coffee at the same time, Hanssen with his dominant right hand and Anna with her dominant left. As a result of which, their fingers brushed against each other. The first skin-on-skin contact they had experienced since the kiss in his office, combined with the tenseness at being in such close proximity to one another, made both of them jerk their hands away as if they had been electrocuted, the sudden movement leading to some of Anna's scalding coffee spilling onto Hanssen's hand, making him hiss in surprise and drop his cup. They both exploded in simultaneous apologies for their clumsiness as the puddle on the counter spread, both refusing free refills, eager to leave the crime scene. Anna paused for a quick think. Enough was enough.

"Mr Hanssen, a second, if you please?" She realised that both of them were breathing heavily, running a risk of sounding dangerously close to post-coital to the casual observer.

He nodded his assent and they headed towards the exit, looking for a quiet place to talk.

"The presentation for the board meeting. Have you finished it yet?" she asked, taking slow, deep breaths.

"No."

"Will you finish it before the end of your shift?"

"Unlikely", he conceded.

"Might I suggest…that you stay behind for a couple of hours to do so… and make sure that no one knows you are still in the building? I could come and pick you up." _Well, better not give away the game entirely…_Anna held her breath as she scanned his face, waiting for his reply, still not quite believing her audacity.

It took a few seconds for the implication to register. Hanssen stared at her in surprise when the penny dropped. "That can be arranged." He allowed himself a small smile, making Anna melt with relief.

"Good, that's…that's good." Her mind taken over by pure joy, she was utterly at a loss for something else to say. "Oh! How's your hand? Did I burn you?"

"I'm sure I'll survive the trauma, Dr Bartkiewicz." The smile widened a touch as he gently teased her.

"Good! Um…right. Good. In that case, I shall see you later." Fighting the urge to hug him in full view of the incoming patients, hospital staff and paramedics, Anna marched off, her mind whirring with the logistics of preparing for the grand occasion.

* * *

**If I don't post again before Hanssen/Hemmingway...good luck to everyone. We'll make it through. xx**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:**

**Greetings, all. I'm not afraid to tell you that I am still feeling a bit down about Hanssen/Hemmingway. I am not equipped to deal with emotions of such intensity! (That's despite the problems I had with the plot which, if you're _really_ curious, you can find on my Tumblr page, too-kind.)**

**So, in an attempt to cheer up both myself and anyone who might be suffering from similar emotional TURMOIL, here's the next chapter of the Hanssen/Anna saga.**

**A gentle reminder that this story is rated M. And a quick piece of advice - if you don't remember who Sven is, it might help to scan chapters 2 and 3.**

**That's it from me, on with the show!**

* * *

Anna stood outside Hanssen's office, savouring the last few moments of anticipation. Although their first moment of intimacy was less than a week ago, she finally had to admit to herself, after weeks, months, perhaps even years of ruthlessly suppressing such thoughts, that this was what she has wanted for a long time. And, if she were to believe that one remark of his, gasped against her neck, so has he.

_Oh good, no pressure then._

She had had the time to rush home to pick up a change of clothes, not feeling her most seductive in the borrowed pair of scrubs, and was now checking off the mental list to make sure that everything was in order. Anna suddenly felt like a schoolgirl who had been caught smoking on school grounds, standing outside the headmaster's office – not that the idea of Hanssen as a strict disciplinarian wasn't entirely unappealing. As she raised her hand to knock on the door, the little voice at the back of her head screamed at her in wild panic, telling her to stop being an idiot, to turn around and leave and not indulge in foolish-

Too late.

"Come in!"

Every nerve on edge, Anna gathered her courage, pushed the door and walked in.

It had gotten dark outside and the office was softly lit by a small lamp on a shelf at the back, as well as his desk light, lending the room a cosy, intimate look. It was really remarkable, the extent to which his workplace reflected the man's character. At first glance, it looked rather severe, particularly in daylight – sparse furniture, polished surfaces, black-and-white photographs of desolate marine landscapes on the walls. But soon enough one realised that there was more warmth and more humanity to the room than first met the eye. Potted plants were dotted around the back wall, various medical volumes that had obviously been carefully picked by hand were arranged on the shelves, and even the habitual bowl of red apples was important in adding a splash of colour. Everything seemed to have been allocated a place with a specific plan in mind, not one item unnecessary, not one lacking. And at this time of the evening, the gentler lighting almost made it look like this office was more than just a workplace – a safe haven, even a home. It was a thought which, carried to its logical conclusion, made one's chest tighten with compassion for its occupant.

Hanssen was sitting behind his desk in his shirtsleeves (to Anna's delight, still in his waistcoat), his laptop open in front of him, the preparations for the presentation to the Board clearly having consumed his attention for the past few hours. The instant she saw him, Anna felt a powerful surge of confidence. He really did want her. He wanted her enough to break his self-imposed restraint, to abandon his cherished public persona in her company, to stay behind in the office on a wet Thursday until it got dark, waiting for her to come to him. And if there was one thing Anna was certain about, it was that she would make it worth his while. She had this handsome, fascinating, delicious man all to herself, and she was going to have fun.

She closed the door behind her and turned the lock. For the first time, Hanssen looked up at her over the top of his glasses.

"You seem to be taking remarkable liberties with my office, Dr Bartkiewicz," he uttered quietly, in a tone that didn't exactly discourage her from doing so. "Besides, I am rather curious to see where you intend to take me" he continued, glancing at the coat and briefcase in her hands.

Anna smiled softly and deposited the items she was carrying by the coat stand. Oh, this was going to be wonderful.

"Firstly, Mr Hanssen, I have no intention of taking you anywhere."

Hanssen fixed his intense gaze on her, his expression a mixture of desire and wariness. _Too bad, my darling, you'll just have to go along with this._

"Secondly, I suggest you switch off that lamp behind you. While your shift has ended some time ago and your colleagues are unlikely to come looking for you in person, it's best not to have too much light visible from the corridor. Your desk light should be sufficient."

"Ah… Right, I rather think-"

"Do it."

_Trust me, Henrik. Just trust me, please._

Slowly, hesitantly, he turned around to flick the switch, plunging the room into semi-darkness. Anna used his break in concentration to move closer to the desk, until she was right next to his chair, looking down at him. Having fulfilled her request, Hanssen returned to his original position, leaning back, watching her intently.

"And thirdly…" Anna swung her left leg over his lap and leaned back against his desk, a small movement away from straddling him. Her grey pencil skirt rode up, giving him the chance to admire the silk stockings with black lace tops and the barely showing satin straps of the suspender belt that Anna chose to wear for the occasion. As Hanssen's eyes dropped down to her legs, he inhaled sharply and his mouth tightened into a thin, tense line. Taking hold of his tie – one of her favourites from his wardrobe, the grey one with a pattern of oak leaves – she pulled his head back up, leaning in until their lips were almost touching. "…What's my name, Henrik?" she whispered. He was silent for a few moments, overwhelmed by the intensity of their situation. Finally, he breathed out "Anna…" and moved forward slightly to close the gap between them.

Despite her confident, dominant demeanour, every nerve, every cell in Anna's body froze, not daring to believe this pleasure she was experiencing was finally real, and not about to be interrupted by her radio alarm. He was obviously impatient, immediately seeking to deepen the kiss but Anna used all of her considerable reserves of willpower to hold back, the tip of her tongue teasing him, not letting him get too far. Hanssen's lovely, large, warm hands crawled up to rest on her knees and he made a movement to stand up but Anna pulled back and pushed him into the chair, her palm on his chest.

"No. Stay there."

Raising her knees she moved her legs over to slide them along the inside of Hanssen's thighs, gently pushing outwards to make him spread his legs a touch wider, giving her space. She leaned forward again to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before slowly starting the descent towards his neck. Remembering his most gratifying reaction the last time she had paid attention to his earlobe, she slid her lips towards his hairline, containing herself this time to lightly, teasingly dragging her tongue along the curve of his ear, relishing the shuddered breath he didn't quite manage to hide. She planted kisses down his jawline, enjoying the pleasant resistance of the barely noticeable stubble that had appeared by this time of the day. Licking her way down the surgeon's neck, feeling his warm pulse under her lips, Anna paused when she reached the collar of his shirt. It was time for a slight rearrangement.

Supporting herself with her hands on his thighs, she slid down along his body, feeling his warmth, until she was kneeling between his legs, her next objective in front of her eyes. Her fingers crept up to the top of his waistcoat.

"Must you be quite so buttoned up, Henrik?" she purred in a tone of mock complaint at having more work to do. When the amusing retort she would have expected never came, she glanced up askance. To her surprise, the Swede's expression was tense but not entirely in the way she would have liked. When their eyes met, she felt his fingers wind around her wrists, pulling them away from him.

"I think that's quite enough, Anna." Despite the unmistakeable signs of enjoying her ministrations, his face still somehow managed to retain the calm, authoritative look.

She felt every organ in her body sink down to floor level. "Do you want me to go?"

"No." His fingers tightened their hold on her. "No, I just…I hardly think this is wise."

It was how she feared, then. Doing what she intended to do to him in his own office, recklessly smashing through an entire list of hospital regulations, was evidently a step too far. _Still, might as well give it a try_.

"That's a pity. I rather thought you would find this set up to your liking – I certainly know I do." Anna smirked up at the Director of Surgery from between his legs, committing to memory the glorious sight in front of her.

"Well, ah…that I unfortunately can't deny." Henrik smiled down at her, covering her hands with his own and pressing them against his chest. It was obvious even to someone who was more used to dealing with inanimate machinery that his heart rate was considerably elevated. "But the possibility of someone seeing us…that is simply horrendous. That doesn't bear thinking about."

Anna dragged her attention away from the feeling of her hands in his – how could such a small gesture make her feel so safe, so protected?

_Right, time to wheel out the heavy artillery of cold logic yet again._

"I know. I wouldn't want that to happen either. But I ask you to consider the following. The door is locked. Your shift ended hours ago. No one has any reason to suspect you are still in the building. Yours is the only office on this corridor, and the meeting rooms aren't in use – and yes, I did check. From the outside your office looks dark. Your pager and phone are on your desk so you can be contacted in case of an emergency. I was careful to make sure that no one saw me heading this way."

She noted his slight smirk as he understood her strategy, anticipating her next argument.

"Furthermore, last Friday you were quite content to push me up against the wall of this very office and have your way with me in broad daylight, during your working hours, without so much as bothering to lock the door. Care to contradict me?"

"I wouldn't dare." The indescribably seductive smirk grew wider.

"I should think not. Lastly, I have had rather explicit dreams about your fair person and this very desk, you have been more or less constantly in my thoughts for the entirety of this week, I am running out of both patience and underwear and I would be much obliged if we could get on with it and do what both of us have wanted to do for a while now – shag each other's brains out."

"Ah, you put it so eloquently."

"Any further questions?"

"Just one, if I may. More of a comment, really." The smirk faded as Henrik's expression turned more solemn. "I think you ought to know that I…well, that I haven't done this for a while. Quite a long while, in fact."

Anna swallowed the obvious but rather inappropriate response, _Oh don't worry, Henrik, it's just like riding a bicycle._

She took his hands and pulled them towards her mouth, placing a gentle kiss on each one. Looking up at him, she replied, "I don't care. I want you. It's as simple as that."

Henrik's hands moved to cup her face, his thumbs lightly stroking her cheekbones. Anna's chest tightened as she saw him looking at her with a mixture of tenderness and gratitude. "I want you, too" he whispered, barely audibly.

After a few moments, he leaned back again, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"In that case, Dr Bartkiewicz, feel free to proceed."

Not minding his use of her surname in this instance, she wasted no time in picking up where she left off, her hands already back at the top button of his waistcoat. "Don't think I won't," she murmured. Slowly unbuttoning his garment, she added one last comment, her eyes never leaving her work.

"Oh, and Henrik?"

"Mmm?"

"Do remind me to position myself between your legs for every argument we may have in the future, won't you?"

She smiled as she felt his chest rise under her hands with a soft, warm laugh. Reaching the end of the row of buttons on his waistcoat she hesitated for a couple of seconds, deliberating whether she wanted to remove the item of clothing completely or simply leave it hanging open. _Decisions, decisions_. Choosing the former, she pushed her hands into the space between the fabric and his shoulders, indicating her intent to Henrik. He obliged, freeing himself from the garment and making Anna smirk as he placed it neatly on a bookshelf behind him. Her fingers swiftly dealt with the knot of his tie and she slid it from around his neck, making a point of flinging it indiscriminately to one side. Judging by his look of quiet amusement, the implication of her move did not go unnoticed.

At last, there was only one layer of clothing left. Anna undid the first couple of buttons and raised herself up to press a kiss to the exposed skin, sighing softly as Henrik's hands came up to rest on her waist. She let her fingers and her mouth work together, lavishing attention on every inch of his chest that became accessible with every freed button. Judging by his perfect stillness, Hanssen had neglected to breathe. That problem was soon fixed as her warm mouth found one of his nipples and a long, contented sigh left his body, his head tilted back and his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. Her tongue followed the trail of his rather sparse chest hair, stopping to draw a small circle around his navel, briefly darting inside. She pulled out his shirt to reach the last couple of buttons and paused for a second before embarking on overcoming the next obstacle.

Anna could already discern a sizeable bulge straining at his trousers and a fresh jolt of excitement coursed through her. Clearly, she was doing something right. With a feather-light touch, she glided her hand against it, caressing the ridge. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Henrik's fingers tightly grip the armrests of his chair. She slowly slid the black leather belt out of the metallic buckle, undid the button, unzipped the fly and gently pulled down his boxers a couple of inches. Her hand slipped inside to lightly grip his erection and free it from its constraints, causing a quiet hiss to come from somewhere above her head. A few light, leisurely strokes were enough to make him completely hard and ready for her. Glancing up to gauge his reaction, Anna found Hanssen staring at her, his dilated pupils making his eyes darker than usual, his mouth slightly open. Keeping her eyes fixed on his with a distinctly predatory look, she stuck out the pink, glistening tip of her tongue to lick the underside of her top lip and bent her head down.

Her own arousal made itself felt with a firm pounding in her groin as her tongue came into contact with the base and she slowly licked up along his hard length. Not reaching the head, she broke off and started again at the bottom, repeating the exercise a few times till his small sighs of frustration became audible. Anna rewarded him for his patience by swirling her tongue in circles across the sensitive skin of the head and then, without the faintest hint of a warning, took as much of him into her mouth as she could manage.

When all she got for her efforts was a suspiciously quiet and controlled release of breath, she freed him from her mouth and glanced upwards to assess the situation. Henrik's head was thrown back, his eyes were squeezed shut, his lips were slightly parted and, looking down, she saw that his knuckles were white from the force with which he was gripping the armrests. It was all too obvious that he was holding himself back, desperately trying to fight Anna's ministrations and make as little noise as possible.

_Oh-ho-ho, Big Mistake, Mr Hanssen._

With rather uncharacteristic recklessness, Anna decided that very instant that her one true purpose on this occasion would be to make Hanssen moan uncomfortably, uncontrollably loudly, caution be damned.

It was with this thought firmly in mind that Anna allowed her hands to take over where her mouth had been, stroking gently, and moved her head even lower down. When her tongue flicked out to taste the almost unbearably tender skin and then proceeded to trace random patterns on it, she felt his entire body go rigid and heard his breath turn shallow, quickening in anticipation. Loath to disappoint him, she teased him for a few more moments before engulfing the organ in her warm mouth. Henrik gasped, loudly, struggling for breath, his fingers finding their way into her hair, their pressure letting her feel the delicious tension that spread to every part of his body.

_More. Need. More._

Anna withdrew to softly whisper, "Moan for me, Henrik." Once again, she gathered up the increasingly tense flesh in her mouth and _sucked_.

He finally gave in to her, admitting his defeat in a long, shuddering groan. The low, luxurious voice, finally forced to be employed for purposes other than pithy, sardonic remarks, was making every nerve in her body tense, quickening the pulse of her own arousal.

Eager to secure her success, she let her mouth rejoin her hands and once again dipped her head down to take him in, setting up a rhythm, swirling her tongue all around him.

"Anna…" came another loud gasp.

He caught her on the upstroke, when her lips encircled the most sensitive area. It would have been foolish not to make use of the opportunity.

"Mmmm?" she hummed in reply, her lips still in contact with the skin.

A mere second after she heard the choking sound above her head, she felt a vice-like grip on her arms and was forcefully pulled upwards until she was perched on the edge of his desk. Hanssen leaned over her, his hands on either side of her hips, breathing heavily into her ear.

"Not…yet…" he managed to squeeze out. After a while, he seemed to regain control of himself and straightened up, rebuttoning his trousers with a barely noticeable wince. Anna smirked as she realised that it _simply wouldn't do_ for the Director of Surgery to have his trousers pooled around his ankles. Avoiding eye contact, he reached behind her to rearrange a few objects on the immaculately organised surface of his desk. Her smirk faded, however, to be replaced by a less complacent, more intensely focused expression as he straightened up again and addressed her in his best, clipped and precise Mr Hanssen voice.

"I'd say it's my turn to lead, wouldn't you? Lean back, please."

Hesitant to tear her eyes away from the sight in front of her, Anna obliged, lowering herself onto the desk, taking care to avoid the spiky fish ornament that had so often drawn her attention during the meetings in his office. Watching him towering over her made her suddenly feel extremely vulnerable, though hardly in an unpleasant way, particularly given that his shirt was still hanging open, offering her a generous view of his naked torso. Anna held her breath as his fingers moved to the top button of her crisp, white shirt, lifting the fabric off her skin, so that she wouldn't feel his warm touch until he decided to let her. His face bearing the same look of calm concentration as when performing surgery, Hanssen worked his way down her shirt, betrayed only by his somewhat irregular breathing. His hands froze in mid-air and his lips parted slightly as he realised that she wasn't wearing a bra. Reaching the end of the row of buttons, Hanssen gently opened her shirt, exposing Anna's chest to the cool air of his office. For a while he simply stared at her, his dark brown eyes behind the metallic frames of his glasses slowly travelling over every inch of her skin. Despite herself, she writhed on the hard surface of the desk under the intensity of his gaze, impatient for him to touch her, to do something, to break the tension. Finally, he raised an almost imperceptibly unsteady hand to take off his glasses and placed them on the far corner of the desk. Anna felt a shiver go down her spine when he turned his head back to look her straight in the eye, the lean face transformed by a heavy, hungry stare.

Maintaining eye contact, he leaned in as close as he could without letting their bodies touch, dropping his gaze to her chest and pausing momentarily, as if considering where he wanted to start. She felt his lips just below her collarbone and sighed softly at the welcome attention. Not staying for long, Henrik lifted his head again and pressed a kiss to the top of her right breast, dragging his tongue across the skin. Anna arched her back in pleasure, seeking greater contact with his body, but he was quick to move away, not letting her gain the upper hand. He made her wait longer this time, leaving her to guess where his mouth will move to next. Seemingly in retaliation for her earlier mischief, his head suddenly dipped back down and his open mouth covered the tip of her breast, his tongue licking hot, vigorous circles across her nipple. Anna moaned loudly and her hands darted to his head, burying her fingers in his hair. Lifting himself away from her skin and ignoring her whimper of protest, Hanssen reached up to grab her wrists and pinned them to the desk, letting her understand in no uncertain terms that it was his turn to dictate the pace. Keeping his hold on her, he hovered above her, making her squirm in anticipation. When he finally did turn his attention to the other breast, he rewarded her patience by combining the caresses of his tongue with sucking harshly on the tender nub, before capturing it between his teeth and lightly biting down on it. This drew a series of gasps from deep inside Anna's chest as her wrists strained against his grip. If he really hasn't done this for a while, the man had to be commended on his excellent memory.

He planted light kisses down her stomach, stopping when he reached the waist of her skirt. As she felt his lips leave her skin again, Anna opened her eyes, trying to adjust to the lack of focus, to see him moving back to sit down in his chair. She was perplexed for a moment, before she understood what his intentions were and felt the pulse of her arousal beat more fiercely. He wheeled the chair slightly closer to the desk and placed his hands on her thighs, pushing up her pencil skirt higher and higher, until her underwear and suspender belt were exposed before him. His breath caught as he understood her clever trick and his fingers slid higher to hook onto the waistband of her black lace knickers and drag them down, leaving on the suspender belt and the stockings. Once Anna shifted to help him get rid of the unwanted item, he lifted her left leg onto his shoulder, making it slide silkily along the fabric of his shirt until the rough lace of the stocking top was rubbing against his cheek, while her right foot found the armrest of his chair.

Anna was struggling to believe this was really happening – the very idea was absurd, dreamlike. She was spread out half-naked on the desk of the cold, aloof, sardonic Director of Surgery whose face was currently framed by her thighs and who looked like he was about to-

She got incontrovertible proof that this was all very real indeed as Hanssen turned his head to press a kiss to the soft skin of her thigh, before dipping his head lower. Gently parting her folds with his fingers, he hesitated for a moment – Anna forgot to breathe – before flicking his tongue, once, against the most sensitive area in her body. Anna's hand flew up to her mouth and she bit down on her fist to stifle the loud, dangerously loud moan that escaped from her. This proved to be a useful strategy as Hanssen's tongue picked up speed, the hot, clever muscle lavishing attention on the hardening bundle of nerves, occasionally leaving it to lap up the fluid that betrayed the intensity of her arousal. She had to use every last drop of willpower to stop herself from bucking her hips as two long, elegant fingers slipped inside her, sliding in and out in time with his tongue, before curling slightly to reach the particularly sensitive spot. Anna was struggling to control herself, her stifled moans growing louder and louder, her teeth sinking into her hand, leaving an angry red mark, as Henrik's tongue started circling around the nub, the teasing serving to drive her mad. She let out a gasp from the contrast in temperature as his mouth left her, trying to work out what he was thinking of doing next. She didn't have long to wait as he quickly dropped his head back down, covered her with his mouth and sucked, hard.

A high-pitched squeal came from the back of Anna's throat as she sat bolt upright, the remaining crumbs of rational thought she still possessed reminding her of the need to stop him before it was too late – firstly, the particular dynamic that they had established made her want to match his earlier self-restraint, secondly, the idea of both of them finding release at the same time was considerably more appealing, and thirdly, she needed him inside her. Now. Right now.

"Henrik, stop, stop, stop", she tugged at his hair, urging him to lift his head. A fresh wave of desire hit her as she saw his flushed face, his eyes utterly glazed over, his breath ragged.

She cupped his face, "Henrik, I need you. Please."

He seemed to understand and, helping her lift her leg off his shoulder, he stood up, shakily, to once again unbutton his trousers. Anna reached down to the top of her left stocking to procure the condom she had placed there, removing it from the foil and leaning forward to slide it onto Hanssen's erection, hearing him hiss as her fingers brushed his skin.

She looked up at him and leant back again, waiting for him to make the move, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. He moved forward to position himself between her legs and sank down until he was leaning over her, his eyes fixed on hers. Realising he needed the final confirmation, Anna nodded slightly, prompting him to push himself inside her.

Silence.

As they stared into each other's eyes, both their mouths dropped open in noiseless gasps, the sensation overwhelming, almost unmanageable.

Neither of them had any patience left and so, without giving her the chance to adjust to his size, Henrik started to move, setting up a brisk, steady rhythm. Anna's entire universe narrowed itself down to the feeling of him moving inside her, of his breath in her ear, of his fingers entwined with hers. He started to moan with every thrust, all pretences of self-restraint abandoned as he surrendered completely to her, to the pleasure she was giving him. It didn't take long for Anna to feel she was getting close, the delicious tension building up inside her. It felt like that tension had been accumulating not since the first time he touched her, nor even since she walked into his office that evening, but since the first time she first felt her attraction to him, however much she suppressed it at the time, and now, years later, he was bringing her closer and closer to release. As Henrik pounded harder and harder into her, she felt the pressure mount higher and higher and higher and _higher_ and with a scream buried in his shoulder she went over the edge, contracting around him, as an incredibly powerful orgasm burst through her body, causing him to lose control completely, following her a few strong thrusts later with a loud, high-pitched moan in her hair, pumping and pumping and pumping until there was nothing left and finally collapsing onto her, utterly spent and breathless...

...A while later, Anna once again became aware of colours, of the distant sounds of ambulances, of his warm, heavy weight on her chest. As much as she wanted to stay like this forever, with her legs wrapped around his waist and her naked skin pressed against his, it was becoming rather difficult to breathe. Her hand reached over to gently stroke his head before making a movement to sit up, prompting him, slowly and hesitantly, to lift himself off her and slide back to collapse into his chair. As she pulled herself up into a sitting position, her stockinged legs dangling off the edge of his desk, Anna paused to admire the sight in front of her.

Henrik Hanssen, the inscrutable, distant CEO and Director of Surgery of Holby City hospital, was leaning back in his chair with his shirt hanging open and his chest glistening with sweat, visibly rising and falling as he continued to try to get his breath under control. His dark, curly hair was slightly damp at the temples, and his lips were parted. But what struck her most of all was the expression of his eyes – undoubtedly exhausted but deeply contented and full of such affection and tenderness that Anna's breath caught in her throat. In short, he looked thoroughly and most gratifyingly _shagged out_.

They looked at each other for a few moments in silence, assessing with deep satisfaction the effect each had had on the other's appearance. _Henrik Hanssen has just made love to me on the desk in his office_. The hormones coursing through her system and the emotional overflow they served to intensify suddenly made this seem like the most hilarious, ridiculous and wonderful thought she has ever had, and Anna couldn't stop a wide, joyous grin from spreading across her face. Looking at her, Hanssen couldn't help but smile himself, looking the most relaxed and comfortable Anna had ever seen him.

"May I commend you on your excellent taste in lingerie?" he offered in a warm, lazy drawl.

"Oh, these?" She ran her fingers over her knees up to the lacy tops, enjoying the smooth feel of the delicate fabric. "I'm glad you like them, they're from my favourite boutique in Strasbourg."

"Ah, the French. A marvellous nation." Anna smiled at his playful tone.

Slowly, concerns about the tiresome practicalities of real life returned to her sluggish brain. Now that her mission was accomplished it would be foolish to linger and risk discovery. She started buttoning up her shirt, enjoying Hanssen's look of poorly disguised disappointment.

"Well, Henrik, my work here is done. I should go. And it's certainly a bad idea for us to leave together."

He nodded silently and set about getting his appearance in order as she hopped off the desk onto somewhat unsteady legs and straightened her clothes. Looking around for the missing item of clothing, she smirked as she saw Hanssen holding up her lacy knickers between two fingers with a highly amusing look of mock concern.

"Looking for something, Dr Bartkiewicz?"

"Ah yes, much obliged, Mr Hanssen." She took the item from him, her fingers brushing against his, the brief contact making her determination to leave him slightly more difficult to maintain. Rearranging her messed up hair, she stood next to his chair, trying to think of something to say, some way to let him know how she felt but still somewhat wary of overdoing the emotional intensity.

While she was deliberating, Henrik stood up, unfolding himself to his full height. They moved towards each other at the same time, Anna wrapping her arms around his lean frame, snuggling against his chest, sighing softly as he drew her closer. The blasted evolutionary biology, or whatever it was, made itself felt again as she realised she hadn't felt this safe in years. It occurred to her suddenly that she had almost wanted this more than anything else he had done this evening – just to be pressed against his warm body, and listen to his heartbeat, and have his arms wound tightly around her, and feel his warm lips in her hair as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. Her hands caressing his back, she became aware of the dampness of the fabric under her touch.

"Henrik?"

"Yes, Anna?"

"Do you have a spare shirt? It's a chilly evening, you'll catch your death out there!"

She felt rather than saw him smile as he pulled her even closer to him.

"I'll be fine."

"Henrik."

"I have my waistcoat, suit jacket, coat and scarf, not to mention my car. Satisfied?"

He let out a snort as she slapped him lightly on his back for his insolent tone.

"I am now, yes."

They were silent for a while, relishing each other's warmth. Suddenly, Hanssen spoke to her, as if he had remembered something vitally important.

"Oh I do apologise, I completely forgot to ask. How remiss of me. How _is_ Sven?"

_Oh this is simply unfair_. Anna felt herself struggling to deal with this new wave of intense affection, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Considering her reply for a few moments, she finally said:

"He is simply the happiest toy dog in the whole world."

* * *

**Well, *pushes glasses up nose*, I believe the technical term is _smutfest._**

**This is the first time I've ever attempted to write anything like that so, ah, do let me know what you think!**

**Also, can Holby writers get on with it already and give him a _happy_ romantic interest? Like, now that he knows that his parents loved each other and they both loved him and he's allowed to feel again? Yeah? Hoyyy...**

**xx**


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